El Impostor Español
by MissPiggy97
Summary: SEQUEL TO LE MOUSQUETAIRE FEMME. The Cardinal is dead, Milady de Winter has fled Paris and the Queen is finally with child, it would seem that the Musketeers can finally breathe but as a new adversary makes waves in Paris, Anna learns that your past is never truly buried. Can the only female Musketeer succeed in a man's world and keep those she loves safe from Rochefort's plans?
1. Prologue

_**1628**_

 _Anna let her hand skim the surface of the sea of wheat filling the field she was walking through as her exhausted horse wearily dragged itself along behind her._

 _"Not much further, Alexandre." She smiled at the animal who huffed in response. "Yes, I know I've said that a few times today, but this time…" She pointed to a tiny house at the edge of the field. "…I mean it."_

 _The horse looked up and after a moment of appearing to digest her words, he allowed her to rub his head before they continued across the wheat and towards the home._

 _"Mademoiselle!" The door of the house flung open as Anna guided her horse towards a small trough of water._

 _"Monsieur Bertrand, I presume?" She smiled at the man as she removed various bags from Alexandre's back. "I apologise for being a day late, we took a wrong turn." She sighed as Alexandre turned to stare at her as if with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, I took a wrong turn; my horse's sense of direction is excellent – I should learn to trust it more."_

 _"It is of no problem, Mademoiselle." He assured her as he ushered her inside. "You will rest here tonight before I introduce you to my brother in the morn."_

 _"Thank you, Monsieur." She touched his hand gratefully. "I trust everything is sorted for my journey?"_

 _"Of course, Mademoiselle: I pride myself on being the best courier in France." He gave a little bow as he pulled out a chair for her at his table._

 _"Did your brother manage to procure me a dress?" She asked as he placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of her._

 _"Indeed, Mademoiselle: it is at his house waiting for you to change tomorrow."_

 _"Excellent." She reached out to touch his hand once again. "France thanks you for your service, Bertrand."_

* * *

 _The sun was low in the sky as Anna led her horse across Bertrand's land as they followed the man towards a small house remarkably similar to the one they had left minutes earlier._

 _"Your clothes are in the bedroom; I will hold your horse as I check my brother has everything you will need." Anna nodded to the man before ducking into the house and locating the bedroom._

 _She locked the rickety door behind her before inspecting the items carefully laid out for her. With a sigh she shed the day dress she had travelled in and slowly assembled the foreign fashions onto her body. Glancing in the smudged mirror, she coiled her hair in the way she had been instructed and applied the little make-up she had been able to procure before tying a string of pearls around her slender neck._

 _"No going back now." She whispered as she took in her new appearance. "I am ready." She called out as she opened the door and left the small room._

 _"Ah, wonderful!" She was greeted by two identical men. "Mademoiselle, allow me to introduce me brother; Blaise." She inclined her head towards the silent brother. "Here are your papers, Mademoiselle." Bertrand handed a small pile of papers, tied with a red ribbon. "I do believe they are some our finest work."_

 _"Excellent." She slipped them into one of Alexandre's saddle-bags. "And these will definitely get me into court?"_

 _"I foresee no problems, Mademoiselle." Bertrand assured her. "Now, I apologise for my haste but I must leave and you must be setting off. Bonne chance, Mademoiselle!"_

 _She watched as the Frenchman disappeared across the field quicker than she imagined a man of his age should move before turning her attention to Blaise._

 _"Ready?"_

 _"Of course." He helped her into her saddle. "And may I be the first to say: welcome to Spain, Señorita."_

* * *

 _Blaise had led her as far as he could and the pair had parted ways in a tiny village a few days ride from the border._

 _Despite not knowing exactly where she was going and having limited experience speaking the foreign language; Anna managed to eventually arrive, unscathed, in Madrid._

 _She wandered through the markets, allowing herself to be immersed in the Spanish culture and language and pleasing herself when the locals understood her. She practised the speech she had prepared for her debut in the Spanish court every night before curling up in an armchair beside the fireplace in her lodgings and searching for any last minute pearls of wisdom from the journals she had brought with her._

 ** _The Spanish Princess is of remarkable beauty and wisdom, it is a joy to prepare her for her wedding in Paris. I am confident that Princess Anne will be a perfect Queen for France; her knowledge of foreign policies and tactical decisions is unparalleled amongst the other women of her class, indeed, it is unparalleled amongst her gender._**

 ** _I am still unsure of my opinion of Spain; the weather is pleasant, with less rain than France, yet I still yearn for the cobbled streets of Paris and the viscous tongues of the merchants as they sell their wares in my native tongue. The palace is gaudy and simply does not have the same elegance as the Louvre, yet I find the court here to be rather admirable in the fact that they don't gossip as publicly as ours._**

 ** _I received word from the Cardinal today, the Musketeers are still making a nuisance of themselves and no-one seems to be putting a stop to it – they will be my first mission whence I return. Although, my permanent return to the Cardinal's side may be postponed further – I am told he has another mission for me._**

 ** _Alas, I am needed,_**  
 ** _Bonne Nuit or as they say here; Buena Noches._**

 _Anna found comfort in the Comte de Rochefort's words – if a man as patriotic and as undeniably French as he could find a place in the Spanish court, perhaps it would be easier than anticipated to gain a place herself. Granted, all those years ago when Rochefort had been sent, all parties knew he was French while she was trying to lie her way in, but the female Musketeer had hope._

 _She whispered her speech once more before extinguishing the candle on her bedside and letting he soft crackle of the fire lull her to sleep: tomorrow she made her appearance in the royal court of Philip IV of Spain._

* * *

 _Anna's reflection was decidedly overdressed compared to the Musketeer uniform she typically wore when called into the French court. She poked at the intricate beading covering her bodice and sighed; it had been a long time since she had worn anything resembling pearls and diamonds but, she had to admit, she looked good._

 _Spending the previous week in the Spanish sun had given skin a glow she had not acquired since her days lounging at the Chateau, and her hair was more golden than ever as it gleamed from its intricate coil atop her head._

 _After a final glance in the tiny mirror, she snagged a small, folded note from her dresser and exited her lodgings, accepting a hand into the waiting carriage._

 _"Where to, Señorita?"_

 _"The palace." Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she leant forward from her seat and slid closed the small window separating her from the driver and allowed herself to be plunged into darkness._

 _Eyeing the thickness of the curtains separating her from the people eyeing the carriage as it rolled through the streets, she unfolded the small note and stared at the inked words, searching for any sign of its origin before leaning back into the plush fabric covering the inside of her vehicle and allowing its gentle rocking to soothe her nerves as the carriage rolled to a stop._

 _"What is the meaning of this?" She wrenched open the flimsy curtains to stare at the palace guards blocking her entrance. "Explain yourself." She withheld a smirk as the guard flinched at her tone and was impressed with her ability to adopt the persona of Senorita Abaroa at the drop of a hat._

 _She anticipated the guard's questions and instead of appeasing him, she held out the delicately folded note and gave him a flirty smile. He hesitantly opened the note and quickly waved them through as he read the message within._

 _"My apologies, Senorita!" He called behind the carriage as it entered the courtyard._

 _She easily bypassed any and all queries through the palace with a simple flicker of the seal on the bottom of her note and at once found herself waiting in a deserted hall in the centre of the palace._

 _Her plan rested entirely on the King's ability to remember the faces of the women he regularly called to the palace after seeing them on the stage. It was well known that the man had a penchant for actresses and that all of his mistresses once graced the stage._

 _She had asked Bertram and his brother to create her the perfect identity; Senorita Abaroa had a humble upbringing but once she moved to Madrid she was at once accepted onto the stage where it is rumoured she was introduced to the King._

 _The note she had passed on to the guard at the checkpoint said so and the signature on the bottom was so authentic that she wondered where Bertram and Blaise had managed to learn it._

 _"Senorita Abaroa." She dropped into the lowest curtsy she could manage as the double doors opposite her opened and a man with an extraordinary moustache entered the room followed by who Anna could only assume was his loyal Chief Minister – Olivares._

 _"Majestad…" The language still felt foreign on her tongue as she addressed the King. "…me siento honrado de ser llamado a usted." He smiled at her before taking her hand and leading her to her feet._

 _"It is I who should be honoured, Senorita, to have such an accomplished actress in my humble home." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand as she smiled bashfully at him, her lashes fluttering. "Walk with me." He instructed, clasping his hands behind his back and leading her further into the palace, the grand doors slamming shut behind them._


	2. Keep Your Friends Close

Anna strode through the Louvre, only half listening to the young serving girl at her heels as she babbled on about what the Queen was demanding and how the only lady she'd allow into the royal bedchamber was her most trusted guard.

"If Her Majesty wants strawberries, why hasn't she been given them already?" She cut the girl off and rolled her eyes as she shrunk away from the female Musketeer and began running to the kitchens. "Honestly." She sighed: in her time at the Louvre she had noticed that while most of the serving staff were able to pre-empt their monarch's wishes, there were a few who often needed a nudge, or a sharp kick, in the right direction.

She took the stairs two at-a-time as she bounded through the numerous halls of the palace, following the distant cries of the Queen. Bursting though the double doors leading to the Queen's bedchamber she ushered out the remaining Ladies-In-Waiting and closed the door behind them.

"Your Majesty." She bobbed a curtsey before kneeling beside the wailing woman.

"Anna." She grasped the Musketeer's hand as another contraction overcame her. "I am so glad you came."

"I am never far away, Your Majesty, you know that." It was true, for the last two months of the Queen's pregnancy; Anna had been stationed solely at the palace and had been issued with her own rooms just five minutes from the Queen's. "A girl should be here soon with the strawberries you asked for…" She told her as she wiped away small beads of sweat from her forehead. "…is there anything else I can get you, Your Majesty?"

"Anna, I need a friend." The woman pleaded. "And there is no-one I trust more with mine and my child's lives, so no more 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness', please just call me Anne and help me get through this."

"Of course, Your-" The Queen glared at her. "…Anne." They exchanged smiles before another shriek ripped from the Queen's throat and her dainty hand gripped Anna's like a vice.

* * *

The sleepy French countryside was still as the morning sun cast its glowing rays over the lush hilltops and coaxed the forest's inhabitants out of their shade to revel in its warmth. The air was silent, not a sound could be heard as the valley lay empty – no signs of the nearby villagers basking in the sunshine.

Silent, until four horses broke through the tree-line, their hooves pounding on the grassy embankments as their riders headed for the almost un-noticeable pathway leading to the secluded village.

"And we've no idea who this man is?" D'Artagnan, the youngest of the four asked as the horses slowed to a walk and the riders un-mounted; walking side-by-side as their horses happily recovered from the gallop they'd been pushed into.

"The Captain doesn't know his identity." Porthos reminded him as a flask was passed down the line of Musketeers, each taking a drag from it.

"All I know is that we're to be in the village inn at noon and he'll make himself known." Athos told them.

"Why the mystery?" Aramis asked the question on everyone's mind as they wandered through the open landscape.

"The King's council has been in chaos since the Cardinal died; no-one knows who's in charge."

"Well at least we're not in Paris pretending to grieve for him." Porthos shrugged, enjoying being free of the funeral.

"They say he wore out his heart in the service of France." Athos smirked as he recalled Anna's precise wording from one of her many letters since she'd been at the palace.

"It's a pleasant surprise to hear he had one at all." D'Artagnan commented as Porthos snickered beside him.

"God…have mercy on his soul." Aramis made the sign of the cross as he spoke, missing that his three comrades stopped to stare incredulously at him. He continued on a few steps before noticing their absence at his side and glanced back them. "He's dead; we can afford to be generous." He grinned at them before continuing their journey.

"How is life at the palace without the Cardinal?" D'Artagnan asked Athos, ignoring Aramis' prayers for the man.

"Very quiet, or so Anna says." He sighed. "The Queen grows tired of being restricted to her rooms but at this late stage it is safer for her – of course that means Anna is with her all the time and…well we all know how restless she gets." He smiled lightly at the thought of his lover's impatience.

"Is there any news of the Queen?" Porthos asked, not noticing Aramis stiffen at the mention of her pregnancy.

"I-" Athos began but was cut off as various shout echoed through the valley and they watched a group of men escort a bound and hooded figure toward a lone tree.

"You're going to swing! Murderer!" they called out as the leader of the group hooked a noose around one of the lower branches.

The Musketeers shared a curious look before re-mounting their horses and heading for the scene.

"Who is this man and what has he done?" D'Artagnan questioned as they tied up their horses.

"None of your damn business." One of the group stepped forward.

"We are King's Musketeers." Athos told them as they too, grouped together to face the men.

"So answer the question." Porthos ordered, his voice purposefully lowered to match his intimidating stare. "Politely."

"He shot our innkeeper in cold blood." The man told them. "A good man is dead and there were a dozen witnesses."

"There will be no lynching today." Aramis told the crowd as he eyed the hooded figure, no longer fighting against his captors.

"If there's a case against him, you can take it to the magistrates."

"So take off his hood and un-tie him." Athos ordered them and after a moment of silence the man was promptly released. "Rochefort." Athos identified him, a hint of surprise in his voice as the prisoner squinted up at the group of Musketeers and removed his gag.

"Musketeers." He spat at their feet. "Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse."

"Will one of you tell me who this man is?" D'Artagnan asked as Porthos, Aramis and Athos kept their eyes trained on the man.

"The Comte de Rochefort." Aramis told him. "One of the Cardinal's most loyal lieutenants; his agent in Madrid."

"Go ahead." Athos called out to the retreating men. "Hang him." They turned to him, shocked as Rochefort glared.

"You can't just let them kill me."

"We're late for an appointment at the village." Porthos told him by means of an explanation.

"With me you idiots!" Rochefort exclaimed. "Dear God, why didn't the Cardinal send his Red Guards instead of a troupe of performing monkeys?"

"The Cardinal is dead." Athos smirked as he strolled past him and towards their waiting horses as the villagers grabbed Rochefort and pushed him towards the noose.

"I have news of vital importance to the King!" He shouted after the Musketeers as the rope was placed around his head. Athos paused for a second before sighing:

"Wait." The executioner paused. "My apologies; it seems we'll take him after all."

"No; he's going to pay for his crime." The leader of the group told him.

"Let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be." Porthos waded into the conversation, hands up in a sign of peace.

The group was quiet for a moment before a younger man came from nowhere and landed a blow to Porthos' stomach. The large Musketeer sighed before pulling back his arm and sending the man flying with one swift punch. The scene descended into chaos as the villagers engaged the Musketeers, desperately trying to disarm them.

Rochefort silently slipped the rope from around his neck and quickly made his way towards the waiting horses. Without hesitation he pulled himself into the nearest saddle and took control of the beast.

"All right: **enough**!" The village leader called out, stopping the fight. "You can have him."

The Musketeers dropped their makeshift weapons and reattached their cloaks around their necks, seemingly satisfied with not having to draw a weapon for the fight. The groups parted, the villagers limping back to their leader, when a shot rang through the air and the man fell to his knees.

The Musketeers watched in shock as Rochefort re-holstered a pistol and galloped away from the hill.

"Is that my horse?" Athos asked in disbelief as the Comte disappeared from sight.

* * *

Anna tore her eyes away from the shrieking Queen as the bedchamber doors opened and a young girl came running in, a small bowl of plump strawberries in her hands. She reached the other side of the Queen and offered her one only to have the bowl knocked from her hands.

"Bear down, Your Majesty." The doctor told the woman as Anna gestured for the maid to bring her the juicy treat. "Bear down."

"That's it Anne." Anna whispered to her as the bowl was set beside her and the maid rushed out of the room. "You're nearly there." She cooed as the woman looked at her with tear-filled eyes.

"It hurts so much." She whimpered as the pain momentarily dulled. "I can't do it."

"Of course you can!" Anna told her firmly.

"The baby is coming!" The doctor told them as Anne's hold on Anna's hand tightened once more.

She readjusted her position beside the Queen, moving to sit partially behind her on the soft mattress in order to support her as her strength faded. Popping a strawberry in her mouth she continued to hold the Queen's hand as the doctor continued to shout orders.

* * *

The forest pathway was deserted as Rochefort's stolen horse trotted down in. The blonde man brought it to a stop as he kept his eyes on the empty wood.

Choosing to instead lead the horse through the too-quiet forest, he jumped from the saddle and clutched its reigns, taking only one step before a gun was cocked at him and three horses emerged from the denser forest in front of him.

Athos dismounted D'Artagnan's horse and made his way to Rochefort as three pistols remained trained on the blonde man. He stopped in front of him and as the Comte opened his mouth to defend his actions, a swift punch sent him to the ground.

"What was that for?"

"To see how it would feel." Athos told him before he turned to the Musketeers; "Felt good." He smirked as they chuckled.

* * *

Silence had fallen over the palace as the sun moved higher in sky. The Queen's shrieks had been replaced with gentle cooing as Anna nursed the bundle of blankets in her arms and an army of Ladies-In-Waiting descended on the royal bedchamber to prepare the Queen for the King's visit.

"How is my son?" The Queen asked as her nightgown was replaced with a cleaner version.

"Perfect, Your Majesty." Anna grinned at the woman as the baby snuffled, his eyes fluttering open. "Utterly perfect."

The Queen smiled as she crossed the room to slip back into bed. Anna dutifully laid the baby in her arms and stood beside her, watching mother and child bond.

Moments later the double doors to the room opened once more as the King slowly made his way into the space, fresh from the Cardinal's funeral. Anna smiled as his eyes never moved from the bundle in his wife's arms.

"Your son, Sire." The Queen beamed as she tilted the baby to show his face to the room as the ladies and members of the King's council bowed to the new Prince.

"My son." He grinned as he sat beside the Queen. "My son." His eyes never strayed from the child as The Queen mouthed her thanks to Anna once more.

* * *

"I demand you release me!" The four Musketeers rolled their eyes as Rochefort renewed attempt to escape them. "I'm not a dog: I'm the Comte de Rochefort!" He all but stomped his foot as stumbled along behind Aramis' and D'Artagnan's horses. "The Cardinal would have your head for this!" He tugged at the length of rope currently bound around his hands and connected to the leading horses.

"Pity he's currently at his own funeral." Aramis smirked.

"He was a great man; his only mistake was failing to destroy you Musketeers."

"Gave it a good try though, didn't he." D'Artagnan chuckled.

"France will be a more honest place without him." Athos added as he and Porthos trailed behind their prisoner.

"Anyway, the last we heard of you; you were rotting in a Spanish prison with no hope of release…" Porthos mused. "…what happened?"

"I was being transferred to Madrid…by God's grace I escaped." He attempted to cross himself as he spoke but glared at the ropes restricting his movement.

"Why not go straight to Paris?"

"I needed protection: a lot of people would like to see me dead."

"I can understand the sentiment." Athos murmured as Porthos let out a bark of laughter.

"If you don't get me to the King soon, you'll regret it!" The Comte shouted over Porthos' laughs.

"What is this vital news of yours?" D'Artagnan asked.

"That is for his ears alone." He told them smugly.

"Captain Treville will decide what's fit for the King to hear." Porthos told him as D'Artagnan gave a sharp tug on the ropes, causing Rochefort to speed up his stumbling, the smug smile falling from his lips.

* * *

Anna led the procession of the Queen's Ladies-In-Waiting as they followed the monarch into one of the palace's many meeting chambers. She smiled down at the Dauphin as he wriggled amidst his blankets, their stark white a contrast to black mourning gown she'd been forced to don after the birth.

"Should you be up so soon, my dear?" The King asked as he took his wife's hand and led her to a quiet spot beside one of the many windows overlooking the magnificent gardens.

"My place is at Your Majesty's side." She told him, although Anna could see how pale the woman looked after the exhausting birth.

"Your devotion does you credit." He smiled at her before watching Anna coo lightly at the Dauphin. "Captain." He summoned the man as he tore his eyes away from his son.

"Majesty." The Captain bowed lightly to the monarchs.

"The Cardinal believed in destiny; he saw a day when France would be pre-eminent in Europe. At such a time, I require a man of statue to fill the Cardinal's shoes; a man that I can trust." Anna listened intently to the King's words from her position a few steps away from the Queen. "Treville, I believe you are that man."

"I don't understand."

"It's very simple; I want you to join my council and learn the business of my government…you might even be my First minister one day and be as dear to me as he was."

Anna almost dropped the Dauphin as the shock of the King's words came to her. She turned her attention back to the blinking baby and attempted to wipe the shock from her face and not appear to be eavesdropping.

"I'm waiting for you answer, Treville." The King beamed at the man, expecting him to be thrilled at the notion. "Still waiting…"

"This is an extraordinary honour, Sire…" The King's smile brightened at his words. "…but one I must decline." The smile faded as he and the Queen frowned at the Captain. "Whatever ability I have is better employed with the Musketeers."

"Come now, Captain; this is no time for modesty." The Queen attempted to diffuse the tension between the men. "The King needs you." She stressed her words as the King's jaw tightened.

"You will not reject me in my hour of need?"

"I **detest** politics and have no talent for diplomacy." Treville explained.

"Such things can be learned: the council will benefit from your wisdom and common sense." The Queen once again tried to persuade him, her eyes wide.

"There are men more able than I, I beg Your Majesty to choose one of them."

"I did not expect **you** to abandon me in my hour of need, Treville." The King bit out.

"I am not the Cardinal, Sire. I could not serve you as he did." Treville attempted to ease the man as Anna held back a snort at the mention of the Cardinal's 'devotion'.

"Well then, it is a great shame that he is dead and you are alive." Anna sucked in a breath at the King's harsh words. "I'm disappointed…but a King does not ask twice." Louis took a step towards the Captain and lowered his voice. "You have cut me to the wick." He stepped away from the man and led his Queen from the room, Anna trailing dutifully behind them.

* * *

The Garrison was silent as Treville arrived back from the palace. He glanced into the stables as his horse was led away and noted the absence of four steeds he had dispatched that morning.

Sighing, he made his way into his office and closed the door gently behind him before running a tired hand down his face and allowing his cloak to slip from his shoulders as he made his way to his desk.

"Bring him in." He barked as he fell into his chair, not needing a knock on the wooden door to be aware of the people standing outside of it.

"Captain Treville…I wish I could say it's a pleasure." Rochefort drawled as he followed Athos into the space, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan following.

"You want to see the King." Treville said, not asking the man; just knowing what his intentions would be upon returning to France. "Why?" He asked after the man's subtle nod.

"I'm not spilling my secrets to a Musketeer flunky."

"It's either that or rot in the lock up." Treville offered, leaning back in his chair, very aware that he would win as Rochefort's jaw tensed.

"I was not the only Frenchman in my prison fortress." He told them after a moment of silence. "One of my fellow captives was General De Foix."

"De Foix?" Aramis frowned at the name. "He was killed fighting with the Swedes at Nuremburg."

"Did they find his body?" Rochefort asked, knowing the answer. "I saw him with my own eyes: he was taken prisoner and handed over to the Spanish."

"Are you alright, Captain?" Porthos asked as he noted the man's paling face.

"The General and I were like brothers…" He told them. "…we were at the military academy together."

"This is all very touching." Rochefort sighed at he once again shifted his hands in their ropes. "But may we stay on topic?"

"You escaped." Treville noted as he observed the blonde man. "Why didn't de Foix?"

"He was more closely watched." Rochefort shrugged.

"De Foix is the chief author of or military strategy against Spain…" Athos added, the name suddenly ringing a bell in his mind. "…if they find that out…"

"What are you proposing?" D'Artagnan asked, pushing himself off the back wall and wading into the conversation.

"A rescue." Rochefort stated.

"Is that possible?"

"It's difficult, but it can be done." Rochefort held out his bound hands and smirked. "Now will you take me to the King?"

* * *

The throne room was packed as a man wearing barely more than rags was escorted in by Treville and his most trusted Musketeers. She eyed the blonde stranger warily as the Dauphin fidgeted in her arms, probably as bored as she was with palace business.

"You are welcome home, Rochefort." Anna's head snapped up from the Dauphin as the Queen spoke to the stranger and moved slightly to get a better look at the man. "You have suffered cruelly."

"The thought of Your Majesty's grace and beauty sustained me through my long hours of confinement." Anna wanted to gag at his sugary sweet words and glanced behind her to see if the Dauphin's intended governess had followed her movement to a more open spot in the hall…she hadn't.

Anna sighed as she watched the woman instead stare at the Musketeers as they stood in their uniform before the King and Queen. She rolled her eyes as Aramis appeared to throw her a smile and the woman blushed.

She had been with the Queen when the woman had been selecting the governess for her child and although Marguerite had been the best option, Anna knew she would only hand the Dauphin over when she absolutely had too.

"The Comte de Rochefort and I are old friends." The Queen explained to the gathered crowd. "He tutored me in preparation for my marriage and taught me all I knew of France."

"We look forward to hearing of your daring escape." The King told him as the doors opposite the dais were flung open and a small man made his way through the crowd.

"Let me through! I insist on an audience with the King!"

"His Excellency Don Fernando Perales; Ambassador of Spain." The man was announced as he stood before the King and Queen.

"So I see." The King sighed as Anna once again moved, this time to get a better sight of the Ambassador, and inadvertently caught the attention of the Comte de Rochefort. "Don Fernando, how are you?" The King attempted to play nice with the man who simply ignored him.

"I demand this man's arrest; he is a fugitive from justice." He pointed at Rochefort. "If the Cardinal were here, he would advise Your Majesty to take the path of diplomacy and common sense."

"How dare you invoke the Cardinal's name when he is scarcely in his grave." The King rose from his throne to stare down at Don Fernando. "Rochefort is a French citizen and a patriot." He descended from the dais and stood face-to-face with the Ambassador. "He will not be returned."

"You would be wise to listen to-" The Ambassador was cut off as Rochefort landed a punch on the man as he saw him step closer to the King. Don Fernando hit the floor with a thud as Aramis stepped in to restrain Rochefort.

"Who do you think you are talking to?!" Rochefort spat at the Ambassador. "Never insult the King again in my presence!"

"Will you let this outage pass?" Don Fernando asked as he regained his footing.

"Frankly, I wish I'd done it myself." The King smirked as Don Fernando stalked from the room. "You're a dangerous man, Rochefort…but an entertaining one." The King told him. "Now, what is this urgent news of yours?"

"If I might speak to Your Majesty in private?" The King paused before nodding his consent and the room began to clear around them.

"Come Anna, our guest is waiting." The Queen told the Musketeer as she led them through a side door, away from her comrades who remained with the King. Anna glanced behind her with a raised eyebrow as she watched Athos secure the room before following Anne.

* * *

"You are still dubious of Marguerite's abilities?" The Queen asked with a smile as the two women made their way through the palace, the Dauphin still in Anna's arms.

"I am just reluctant to hand over the Dauphin to someone so knew to the palace, Your Majesty." Anna told her as they broke away from the Ladies-In-Waiting to receive Her Majesty's guest in private. "Besides, I believe we have become friends." She glanced down at the new-born who was staring up at her with a contented expression.

"Yes, it would appear so." The Queen smiled. "And I am glad of it; I now know my son will always have a protector in you."

"Of course, Your Majesty, I would lay down my life for you and your son." The women shared a tense smile as they considered the child's true parentage before continuing on to the double doors at the end of the corridor.

The doors opened for them and the women entered a small space where two figures were already bowing.

"Constance…" The Queen made her way to the pair as Anna stood back slightly. "…I'm so glad you're here." The woman stared up at the Queen with a startled expression as the monarch addressed her. "Anna speaks of you in glowing terms and her reference was confirmed by not just one Musketeer but many."

"How very kind of them." Bonacieux commented as Constance shot Anna a bemused look and the female Musketeer beamed at her. "Might the King be joining us soon?"

"It was I who sent for you." The Queen told him as Anna rolled her eyes at Bonacieux's rudeness. "I am looking for a reputable young woman to act as my personal confidante and messenger." She told them. "And Madame Bonacieux comes highly recommended."

"By the Musketeers?" Bonacieux asked incredulously.

"Indeed; D'Artagnan said she was a woman of great sense and discretion." Anna smirked at the look that passed over Bonacieux's face before he regained his compose and spoke.

"I have done my best to instil in her the virtues of duty and-"

"Her position will mean her living near me…in the palace." The Queen cut across him. "I assume you have no objection."

"Whatever Your Majesty requires." He stammered out and the Queen smiled lightly before taking Constance's hand and leading her to stand beside Anna.

"My Ladies-In-Waiting are all excellent women but they have no love for a Spanish Queen." She told Constance. "I need a person I can trust, always at my side." She smiled down at the baby in Anna's arms. "I have always known that dear Anna would lay down her life for me and now my son too, she is my closest friend and we have been through a lot together…" They shared a look. "But I am all too aware that now the Dauphin is born, she will be returning to her regiment very soon and I will need someone to fill her shoes…and that I assure you will be quite the task." Anna smiled bashfully at the Queen. "If you do not wish to join me here at the palace, I will understand."

"I would love to join you, Your Majesty; very much." She bowed to the woman. "Thank you."

"I will see to the arrangements." She smiled at Constance and bod farewell to Bonacieux before leaving the room, Anna shooting a wink at Constance as the doors closed behind them.

* * *

The sun streamed through the vast windows in the palace's west wing as Anna carried the Dauphin towards his nursery. The hallway was silent as Porthos, Aramis and Athos descended one of the many staircases that fed into this area of the palace, appearing to be distracting Monsieur Bonacieux with nonsense about drapery.

Anna glanced up from the gurgling baby as Aramis faltered on the last step, their eyes meeting before his flickered down to the child in her arms. Without further hesitation, he made two bold steps forward and intercepted her as they reached the centre of the passage.

"You forget yourself, Sir." Anna inwardly cursed at the snotty tone Marguerite had adopted upon sighting the Musketeer.

"My apologies." Aramis took a small step away from Anna and the child as Marguerite stood beside them.

"Bow to your future King."

"Marguer-" Anna began to scold the woman for her attitude but stopped as Aramis dutifully bowed to the child. "There is no harm in a Musketeer paying his respects, Marguerite." She stared at the woman until she took the hint and fell back into her place a few steps behind Anna and the baby as she angled the Dauphin to stare up at Aramis.

"He's strong." He laughed as the child grasp the finger Aramis had used to push aside the blanket slightly. "And handsome."

"The image of his father, wouldn't you say?" They shared a look as she spoke before Aramis returned his attention to the baby who appeared to be entranced with the Musketeer. "Marguerite." She called out to the woman who rushed forward to stand before Anna. "I trust you can take it from here." She said to the woman who glanced up at her with surprise.

"I thought you wished to oversee the Dauphin until you believed me more settled in?"

"I did; but now that I am sure the Queen is in safe hands…" She glanced to her right and watched Constance descend the same staircase and Aramis and Athos, D'Artagnan in tow. "…I am also sure that any incompetency will reach my ears immediately." Her eyes followed Constance as she re-joined her husband who stood with Athos, Aramis and Porthos as they distracted him from Constance and D'Artagnan's conversation.

"Of course." She stammered out as Anna laid the Dauphin in her arms and pressed a kiss to her fingers before pressing them against his forehead.

"You're leaving?" Aramis asked her as Marguerite held her head high and carried the child away from them and towards his nursery near the Queen's rooms.

"I have fulfilled my duties here." She told him as she placed her arm through his and they re-joined the waiting Musketeers. "The Queen is well, the Dauphin is healthy and the court has gained a new member." She smiled at Constance who was being all but dragged to a waiting carriage by her husband.

Anna grinned at her waiting comrades as she and Aramis met them at the doors to the courtyard where their horses were waiting. She opened her mouth to greet them just as Aramis pulled on her arm to stop her a short distance away.

"Is the Lady Marguerite a competent governess for the Dauphin?" He asked as Athos told Porthos and D'Artagnan to wait outside as he turned to glare at Aramis' not so quiet question.

"The Dauphin is not your son." She whispered to him, her eyes scanning the empty corridor for lingering servants. "He can never be your son." She told him. "We have done everything we can to ensure that there is no hint of anything untoward around that boy." She gestured between herself and Athos who had helped her persuade the Queen she needed her at the birth.

"Unless you wish to confess to an act of treason and take the Queen down with you?" Athos drawled as Aramis hung his head.

"I just…" He sighed and Anna's heart broke as she heard his voice crack. "…I think I'm doomed to always want what I cannot have."

Anna and Athos shared a look before the elder Musketeer placed a hand on his brother's back and led him out of the palace and into the sunshine.

"I know." He murmured. "But this is the only way."

* * *

The Garrison was fairly empty as Anna left one of the many empty bedrooms dotted throughout the building. She grinned up at the sky as she strode through the muddy barracks in her Musketeer uniform; glad to be rid of the unnecessary skirts and frills of the Louvre court.

"The King has approved my rescue plan." She joined the table beneath Treville's office just as Rochefort stood back from the chalk drawing of what she assumed was General De Foix's Spanish prison. "You will all work under my command." He eyed her as she joined the group of men and stood beside Athos, leaning against one of the beams.

"This is a Musketeer mission: Athos will take charge." Treville corrected him.

"The King gave me his authority."

"The day my men take orders from the Cardinal's stooge is the day I resign my commission." Treville told him as his soldiers smirked.

"For the sake of France; we must find a way to work together." Rochefort bit out. "And so…I accept your terms." He took a breath before explaining his plan. "The last person the Spanish will expect to see is their old prisoner Rochefort. Naturally, they'll be grateful to the bandits who bring him in." He eyed the Musketeers. "You will be the bandits, of course."

"If we're caught out of uniform, we'll be treated as spies." Anna reminded him, knowing all too well how the Spanish treated their prisoners suspected of spying. "And that means instant execution."

"If that prospect scares you, perhaps you shouldn't join us…dear." Anna felt her jaw tighten at his words.

"Anna goes with you or you don't go at all." Treville told him. "Trust me; when you get to the gates you'll be grateful of her assistance." Athos frowned at Treville's choice of wording and glanced down at Anna as she smirked at Rochefort.

"What do you-"

"Once we've got De Foix, how do we escape?" Anna quickly cut across Athos' question, knowing Treville's vaguety would pique his curiosity.

"We take Governor Alvarez hostage." Anna felt her shoulders tense as Rochefort spoke; Governor Alvarez. There was no way the man could recognise her after so many years but…

"Anything else we should know?" She quickly tuned back into the conversation as Athos' deep voice sounded from beside her.

"Our primary goal is rescue. But if that is impossible, we must silence De Foix... in some other way." Rochefort told them menacingly, as Treville's head snapped up from the table top to stare at the man.

"You mean kill him?" He asked incredulously.

"General De Foix is a loyal servant of France." Aramis reminded Rochefort as Treville's fists tightened.

"He's also my friend."

"He knows too much." Rochefort shrugged. "The King has made his wishes clear: duty must come first…I'm sure even a Musketeer can understand that concept." He turned and left the group, stalking towards the bedchamber Anna had just vacated.

"We could always arrange for an unfortunate accident to take place on the road back?" Athos offered as Treville pushed off form the table with a sigh.

"Don't tempt me."

* * *

The sun was low in the sky as six horses made their way over the grassy hilltops, leading them closer to the Spanish border as the sun fell lower and lower in the terracotta sky.

Night soon fell and the six veered off into light woodland to set up a small camp for the night. As Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan and Rochefort reclined around the campfire; Anna gently stroked her horse as it stood in the moonlight.

"You are wary of Rochefort." Athos' low grumble startled her as he joined her at her horse's side.

"I am always wary of the Cardinal's men." She reminded him. "As are you."

"Indeed, but you are more so with him." They glanced behind them to watch as the blonde man recounted his experience in the Spanish prisons.

"I…" She desperately tried to find the words that could explain her actions:

 _He's a trained spy…he's the reason they tore me from France…I don't think he's on our side anymore_

"I don't want to talk about him." She stepped away from the steed. "It's been so long since I could stand in the moonlight." She held her arms out in an attempt to capture the pearl glow. "And even longer since I've stood beside you." She smiled up at him.

"As much as I want to; I doubt now is the time to tell you how much I've missed you." He nodded towards the men gathered not so far from them.

"True." She sighed. "Rochefort already thinks me useless because I'm a woman; let's not give him anything else to complain about." She wrapped an arm around his midriff as his rested along her shoulder and joined the men at the campfire.

* * *

"Take a look at the castle and report back." Athos ordered D'Artagnan as they waited on a small forest pathway. "If anything goes wrong, your mission remains the same: rescue him if you can, but if not; your orders are clear." D'Artagnan nodded at his mentor's words before setting off ahead of the group as Anna emerged from a group of bushes.

"So much for no more bloody skirts." She huffed as she lifted herself into her saddle and arranged her dress around the horse.

"At least you don't have to ride side-saddle." Porthos chuckled as she scowled at him and they set off along the path.

"Keep up." Athos called behind him as he noted Rochefort's distance from the group. "We need to stick together."

"We must be getting close." Aramis noted as the trees began to thin and the path widened. "Perhaps half hours ride." He smiled at Anna as she tried to get comfortable in her corset while being jostled on a horse.

"Thank the Lord." She sighed. "I definitely pulled this too tight."

"Hold." Porthos held his arm out to stop them as he brought his horse to rest. "Hold, hold."

"What is it?" Athos asked from the head of the group.

"Wood smoke." Porthos inhaled deeply. "Someone's doused a fire nearby recently." Anna sniffed the air and detected a slight hint of the aroma: she had to give it to Porthos' nose.

Slowly, they un-holstered their weapons and waited for any sounds to give away their enemy.

"Get down!" Aramis shouted a click sounded from above just before a musket ball sailed past them.

They slid from their saddles and began running up the embankments and towards the sources of the gunfire. Anna followed Aramis and Porthos as they tracked their opponents, watching them flee the ditches they'd hidden in and run for better tree cover. They nodded to each other before bursting from their hiding spots and engaging.

Anna found herself dodging multiple blows from a poorly handled rapier as one man appeared intent on harming the only female in the group. She felt the steel nick her arm as she dodged another attack and stilled to inspect the wound.

"You just got blood on my dress." She mumbled as she watched a small drop of blood fall onto the material. "I said…" She spoke louder as she raised her eyes to the man. "…you just got blood on my dress!"

"I-" She cut him off as she raised her pistol and fired at him, bringing him to his knees right in front of her.

"And that's just rude." She told him as his eyes became glassy and he fell forward, blood pouring from his mouth. "Uch." She picked up her skirts and joined Aramis and Porthos as they ensured their attackers were also dead. "This is why I never wear skirts to a fight; far too impractical and it gives the wrong impression." Porthos snickered as he helped her back down the bank and to the horses.

"I don't doubt-" He stopped as a final gun shot rang though the air. "Athos already called a clear." He murmured as he and Aramis took off in the opposite direction to aid their brother.

Anna raced behind them, lifting her skirts as she bounded over fallen branches and the occasional dead man. She skidded to a halt in a small clearing as Athos and Rochefort stood over a body.

"What took you so long?" Athos sneered at Rochefort as he picked up a discarded pistol.

"Couldn't get a clear sign of sight." Rochefort shrugged as Anna noted the sweat on Athos' brow; it had been a close one.

"How did they know we were coming?" Athos asked Aramis as he attempted to quell the blood flow on the fallen man.

"Cómo supiste que estábamos yendo?" Aramis asked the man, his Spanish flawless.

"No lo sabiamos, fue una parada de rutina."

"They didn't." Aramis sighed. "It was a routine patrol."

"Did he get word back to the castle?" Anna asked.

"Reporto al Castillo?"

"Yo solo debo responder ante Dios, no ante unos bastardos franceses e su puta." Anna stifled a laugh at the man's reply as Aramis translated:

"He says he will only answer to God now, not some French…" He trailed off. "…well then he questioned our parentage and your…virtue." The man let out a final cough before slumping. "Go with God." Aramis murmured as he closed his eyes.

* * *

"Let's take their uniforms." Porthos suggested as he and Athos dragged the bodies onto the forest path. "The castle guards will think we're a Spanish patrol."

"If they heard our shots up at the castle, they'll be ready for us." Aramis countered.

"We have to continue this far, no matter what the risk." Rochefort told them as Anna inspected the guard's uniforms.

"You don't have to remind us of our duty." Athos warned him as Aramis and Porthos began swapping their disguises for the uniforms as Anna peeled them from the corpses.

"We should take their horses too: give ours a break."

"What about D'Artagnan?" Aramis asked Athos.

"If he's alive; he'll find us."

"Our problems are greater than D'Artagnan." Rochefort pointed to Anna as she stood from the guards' bodies. "One of our group is wearing a dress and even with time would make an oddly feminine guard."

"Don't worry about me." Anna smiled as she retrieved a pistol from one of the bodies. "I've got a plan."

* * *

Anna led the men, three now clad in guard uniforms, towards the main gates of the prison. She nodded to the guards stationed on the battlements as the curiously watched her approach the gatehouse.

"Estás perdido , señorita?" Anna led her horse to a stop as a guard greeted them at the doors. Aramis opened his mouth to respond in Spanish but was cut off by Anna as she took a deep breath and spoke:

"Mi nombre es Senorita Abaroa , y estos son mis guardias." The four men behind her watched with shocked expressions as she conversed without an issue in Spanish. "Estamos visitando gobernador Álvarez y traer noticias con respecto a su más…importante prisionero." She smiled at him as her eyes flickered up to the tallest building in the prison, where she assumed General De Foix was being held. "Ah, y lo encontramos esta en el camino." She manoeuvred her horse slightly to show the guard Rochefort, tied once again to two horses.

"Rochefort." The guard spat at his feet. "Please, come in." Anna handed him the reigns of her horse as motioned to two stationary guards who duly opened the gates to the prison courtyard and led her in.

"Gracias, senor." She pressed a kiss to his cheek as he helped her from her saddle.

"You found that pig, Rochefort, then?" Anna smiled as one of the head guards approached them.

"Purely by accident, I assure you, senor." She told him as Porthos and Aramis kept a tight grip on the man.

"The Governor will be grateful."

"Where can I find Alvarez?" She asked him. "I have some information about De Foix and then we're planning a little alone time." She winked at him as he pointed to the tower she had spotted before. "Gracias." She beamed. "My men will escort Rochefort to him and then I would appreciate no further interruptions."

"Of course, senorita."

* * *

"This way gentlemen." She led them up a narrow staircase and onto a small landing.

"Are we not going to discuss what happ-" Athos cut himself off as he spotted a man opening the only door on this level, he ran towards him and quickly incapacitated him, one hand over his mouth and the other around his throat.

"Oh thank God!" They heard D'Artagnan sigh as the door swung open to reveal them all. "You're not dead then." He dropped the arm pointing a pistol at the General and fell into a seat beside a bound and gagged Governor Alvarez.

"Don't sound so disappointed." Aramis joked as they filled the room.

"General De Fix, I presume?" Porthos asked as he handed the man a pistol.

"Yes." Porthos nodded to the group as they emptied their weapons onto the small table in the centre of the room.

"I need more…whoa!" Anna paused as she watched a girl she hadn't notice before stand in front of D'Artagnan and slap him.

"D'Artagnan was doing his duty!" The General said as he pulled her away. "I bear him no ill will and nor should you…gentlemen, this is my sister; Lucie." Anna's eyes flickered down to the pistol still in D'Artagnan's hand and pieced together the information; he had been about to kill the General.

"Sister?" Athos asked. "Why didn't you tell us she was here?" He rounded on Rochefort.

"A woman's presence can only hinder our escape."

"Excuse me?!" Anna asked incredulously. "A woman's presence got us into this bloody prison!"

"If my sister stays, I stay."

"It's settled: she comes with us." Athos ended the conversation as he retrieved his restocked weapons led them from the room.

"Move." Porthos pushed Governor Alvarez through the door.

"Forgive me, Monsieur." The General held Porthos back as the Governor stumbled through the door. "What is your name?"

"Porthos: Porthos Du Vallon." He told the man with a frown. "Have we met?"

"I don't believe so." Porthos watched as the General all but fled from the room a curious look crossing his face in the process.

Rochefort led them back down the staircase and into the small space behind the main door to the tower. He eased open the door and waved the group forward and out into the courtyard. D'Artagnan led the Governor down the steps and out into the open air just as teams of guards appeared from nowhere and began shooting at them.

"Go, Go!" Athos called out as Anna's foot reached the doorframe before she was thrown back inside by the retreating men. "Get back inside!"

"What's going on?" She asked as she held a shaking Lucie, the pair hadn't even made it through the door before they'd been thrown back into Rochefort.

"Is there another way out of the courtyard?" Athos asked as they reloaded and locked the door.

"If there was, I'd know." Rochefort said as he studied the inside of the space.

"They sometimes bring supplies in at the back of the castle." Lucie whispered as Anna relayed the information.

"There may be a gate there." Aramis agreed.

"One stupid move and you die." Rochefort warned the Governor as they used a back entrance out of the tower, Anna shielding most of her face from the curious Spaniard. "Get up damn you!" They heard him berate the man as they fell behind the group.

* * *

They left the building and entered a small outside space, the opposite wall containing a door. Anna remained inside with the General and is sister as Athos blew the lock from it and kicked it open to reveal the Spanish countryside outside the prison.

He waved them all through the door and led them across the grass as Aramis and Porthos dragged a carriage across the door, effectively blocking it before joining them all at the edge of a ravine.

Anna joined Athos at the very edge of the clifftop and peered down into the inky waters below.

"That's got to be an 80ft drop, Athos." She whispered as the group caught their breaths. "There's no way-"

"General, you have to go first." She sighed as he turned from the edge and nodded as Aramis and D'Artagnan prepared the makeshift zip-wire the Spanish had constructed to cross the gap.

"Not before my sister."

"You're the prize they want: go." Lucie urged him and he reluctantly nodded, scooping her into a hug before climbing into the seat connected to the rope and sliding along the ravine.

"I'll cover you." Anna murmured as Athos handed her his pistol and turned to crank the rope, bringing the chair back to their side.

Gunshots rang out around them as Aramis and Anna hid behind abandoned barrels and meeting the Spanish blow-for-blow.

"Whatever happens, get De Foix back safe!" Athos ordered Porthos as the large man jumped onto the seat and squatted as it zoomed across the gap, pistol in hand, ready to protect the weapon-less General.

"Give your brother this." Anna handed Lucie a rapier as the woman prepared to be pushed over the cliff.

"Thank you." The woman squeezed her hand before Anna gave a sharp push and the simple chair slid to the General before stopping abruptly in the middle of the rope.

"Lucie!" The General shouted as his sister dangled over the drop.

Anna gathered her skirts preparing to climb to the woman just as D'Artagnan raced past her, already jumping for the rope. He dragged himself along the rope and placed his feet either side of Lucie, using the chair to support him as he tried to push it further. He fiddled with the latch holding the seat onto the rope and after a few tense minutes, Anna breathed a sigh of relief as the chair began to move once more.

"Thank you, God." She heard Aramis mumble beside her as they joined Athos at the crank and Rochefort led the Governor forward. "I'll go." He offered as the man was placed into the chair.

Anna watched as he mimicked D'Artagnan's position and rode above the Governor to the waiting Porthos who handed him a loaded pistol and took the Governor.

Knowing that all of her Musketeer brothers were now safe, she turned to Athos who was preparing to engage the Spanish with his rapier as they broke through the makeshift barricade at the back of the prison.

"Please be careful." She urged him as he placed a quick kiss to her cheek and left her to power the crank.

She rested both hand on the wooden handle and gave an almighty push, huffing as the crank moved a mere inch. She removed the leather gloves from her hands and blowing a strand of hair from her eyes; she channelled her inner Musketeer and pushed the crank, hearing the chair slowly make its return to them.

"Done!" She grinned as the chair finally reached them but it fell from her face as she saw Rochefort running for the chair and not Athos. "Wait, what are you-"

Her words fell on deaf ears as Rochefort began to glide along the rope and leave her and Athos behind. Her eyes narrowed as she could have sworn she saw a small smirk on the blonde's face as she realised the fate he had left them too.

"You bastard." She spat, turning back to the crank just in time to see a Spaniard creeping up behind her. "Not today." She seethed, hitting him with the butt of her empty pistol and rendering him unconscious.

"Trust me?" Athos breathed in her ear as he joined her on the small platform.

"Always." She turned to him and seeing the belt in his hands she knew exactly what she had to do. "I'll take right."

He looped the belt over the rope and with each of them holding one side, his other arm around her waist and her arm around his neck, they jumped and let the gentle slope of the rope guide them across the ravine.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the leather begin to wear as the rope sliced through it and felt Athos' hold on her waist tighten as they moved faster over the water.

"I've got you." He whispered as Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan continued to fire on the approaching Spanish.

Within seconds she felt both his feet hit the rough floor on the other side of the gap and she slowly let go of the belt, feeling both his hands grip her waist as they took a moment to breathe, neither seeing Porthos slice the zip-wire and send the Spanish guards into the water below.

"General!" They separated as they heard Porthos' cry and watched the General fall to his knees before being scooped up by Porthos and Aramis and carried into the tree line.

"Duty calls." She joked as they gripped their pistols and followed the retreating Musketeers.

* * *

"How is he?" Anna asked as D'Artagnan and Porthos secured the small clearing Aramis was using a makeshift hospital.

"The ball passed clearly through his side." He told her and Lucie as the General sat propped up against a tree. "I'll need bandages to staunch the bleeding though." Anna pushed the girl towards her brother as she grabbed the hem of her overskirt and ripped a strip from it.

"Will this do?" She asked as he grinned at her and turned back to the staunch the bleeding gushing from the General's abdomen.

"We need to get out of here." Porthos told them as he led their abandoned horses back to them.

"Can you ride?" Athos asked the General, though his eyes directed the question to Aramis. The Musketeer's lack of an answer made him nod. "Do what you can." He told Aramis who nodded and went back to tending to the General.

"Thank you." Anna whispered to Porthos as the man helped her down the bank and towards her horse.

"For a moment there, I thought you'd abandoned us." Athos' rich voice pierced through the clearing as he stopped Rochefort from joining them.

"It was only logical to hold the chair back to stop the guards from getting to it before you."

"Indeed." Athos mused as D'Artagnan ushered the Governor to the horses. "Your quick thinking saved our lives." He gestured to Anna as she sat atop her horse, helping Lucie up into the same saddle. "Thank you." They shook hands and parted.

* * *

Anna smiled as the glaring rays of the sun stroked her face as the flaming orb sat high in the cornflour sky. She gently led her horse to a stop as the group halted atop a small hillock, a good distance from the border.

"I'll be glad to get this back on." Porthos grinned as he held his up his jerkin and brushed dirt from the soft leather. "Nothing else feels comfortable."

"Aw, you poor dear." Anna joked as D'Artagnan lifted Lucie down from behind her. "I can't imagine how restricted you must feel." She poked at the corset strings peeking out from her bodice.

"What do you wear, if not a dress and corset?" Lucie asked as Anna joined her on the grass.

"This." Aramis handed her, her jerkin and pauldron, the blonde grinning at the sight of her beloved uniform.

"You're a Musketeer?!" Lucie breathed out as she ran her fingers along the intricate Fleur-de-lis design on the pauldron. "You simply have to tell me all about it!" She took Anna's arm and led her to the bushy area nearby to help her change.

"Congratulations General; you're back in France…" Athos told the man as De Foix lowered himself to the floor, his hand gripping his wounded side. "…You're a free man."

"This outrage will not be allowed to pass: it is an act of naked aggression." The Governor spat as soon as Rochefort removed his gag. "I demand that you set me free!"

"All in good time: you'll be handed to the Spanish ambassador upon our return to Paris." Athos assured him as Anna and Lucie reappeared, the female Musketeer laughing as she clipped her pistol to her belt. "Better?" He asked eyeing the torn dress in Lucie's hands.

"Much." She smiled. "Although I doubt Constance will be pleased." She fingered the material with a shrug. "But her anger I can deal with; it's his that appears to be boiling over." She nodded towards the Governor as Rochefort appeared to try to calm him.

"Ignore him." He told her as Lucie re-joined her brother and he left to get changed.

"I wish I could." She murmured, watching the Governor's eyes widen in recognition as she tied her hair back, her face fully visible to him for the first time that day.

"You!" The man shouted, pushing Rochefort aside, stealing his rapier and almost running to her. Anna felt at her side for her own rapier and cursed as she spotted it lying in the grass near the male Musketeers.

"I assure you Governor that I have no idea-" She tried to reason with him, walking backwards from the approaching man as fury clouded his features and stumbling over a rock in the process.

"In the name of King Philip IV of Spain…" He stood over her as she lay splayed on the bank, rapier to her throat. "I will kill-" He pressed it further into the creamy skin of her neck but his movements and speech were stopped as a gunshot rang through the air and the Governor fell to his knees, narrowly missing her.

"What have you done?!" Athos roared as he bounded towards them, his mind racing at the sight before him, two bodies on the hilltop, one dead, but he was unsure which.

"He almost killed her." Rochefort told him lazily as Athos skidded to a halt in front of Anna, his eyes taking in her deep breaths and the dribble of blood sliding down the column of her throat.

"I'm fine." She told him, holding her hands out for him to help her up. "I'm good." She made no protest as the Musketeer wrapped her in his arms, her ear resting against his chest as her breathing clamed to the steady beat of his heart.

"We're expected in Paris." Rochefort called out to them. "The King will be waiting for news." Anna closed her eyes as Athos' unmistakable scent surrounded her, his arms tightening around her form and his chest rumbling as he told them to prepare the horses.

* * *

The Garrison was once again silent as their horses rotted through the archway and came to a stop in the small courtyard. Anna noted the absence of a few horses and surmised that the King had increased the number of guards patrolling the palace grounds now that his son was born.

"Welcome home, General." They all looked up as the Captain addressed his old comrade as he was helped from Athos' horse.

"It's been too long, my friend." The man responded before embracing Treville. The Captain's smile faded as De Foix flinched upon contact and his hand became bloody.

"What happened?" He asked as the General fell forward, Treville now supporting his full weight. "Never mind: just get him inside!" He ordered and Aramis and Porthos each hooked an arm under the man and led him into one of the sick rooms.

* * *

"Rochefort, you are a true French hero!" Anna rolled her eyes at the King's declaration as they stood in the Louvre's ornate library.

She bowed her head slightly as the Queen caught her attention and the woman's gaze fell to her side where Constance proudly stood, grinning at the brunette, Anna felt contented seeing her so close to the Queen.

"In the book of courage: your name will be written above all others!" The King continued before the Queen added:

"It is pleasant indeed to see my old friend cover himself in such glory."

"Since our cardinal's unhappy death, the position of Captain of the Red Guards has stood vacant." The King regained the rooms' attention as Rochefort bowed his thanks to the Queen. "It is yours... if you want it."

"I am overcome." Anna held back a snort at Rochefort's attempt to sound modest. "I will serve Your Majesty and my country faithfully."

"I am glad at least one of our loyal subjects understands his duty." Anna's eyes flickered over to Treville as the man bristled at the obvious slight. "Come, you must tell me how you executed your brilliant scheme." The King grinned as he led Rochefort from the room.

"His scheme?" Porthos asked in disbelief.

"Ah, let him take the credit." Aramis placed a comforting hand on his friends shoulder. "We don't need praise or glory."

"As I keep reminding you: praise and glory are two of my favourite things."

"I thought it was; women and cards?" Anna teased as they too left the library.

"A man can have many favourite things." They laughed at the man's stubbornness as they turned to meander through the palace.

* * *

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp?" Anna turned as a serving boy called out her name. "The Comte de Rochefort requests you wait in his study, he wishes to speak with you." She exchanged curious glances with her comrades before following the lad.

"I'll meet you back at the Garrison." She promised them before disappearing into the palaces labyrinth of corridors.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp." Anna turned from the wall of book she had been studying as she waited for Rochefort to finish with the King. "Or should I say; Senorita Abaroa?" She tensed as the name rolled off his tongue.

He gestured for her to take a seat at the massive desk at the centre of the room as he moved to sit behind it.

"Such an uncommon surname for someone to just know…off the top of their heads." He mused, fingering the papers littering the top of the desk.

"Is it?"

"You know it is…Anita." She held his stare as he appraised her. "I must admit; it took me a while to piece it together, but when Governor Alvarez charged at you on that hilltop…well it all fell into place."

"I don't know what you're-"

"Even prison guards on the outermost skirts of Spain hear of their King's new mistress." He told her, rising from the chair and perching himself on the edge of the desk nearest to her. "Especially when she's rumoured to be so devastatingly beautiful." He a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun.

"Rochefort…" She breathed. "…You can't-"

"Oh I won't tell anyone, dear." He assured her. "It can be our little secret; you, me, Treville and the King." He tucked the hair behind her ear. "Because I assume darling Athos is unaware that his lovely lady is actually a spy who spent two years warming the Spanish King's bed?"

"You're a vile man, Rochefort." She spat.

"Maybe, but at least the Musketeers will look me in the eye when the truth comes out."

* * *

"If I left my husband; my family would cut me off, my friends would cross the street to avoid me…I'd be nothing more than your **whore**."

Anna kept her head down as she led her horse back into the Garrison, her footsteps heavy as she tried to ignore Constance and D'Artagnan.

"Scandals soon pass, Constance."

"For **men** , perhaps." Anna silently agreed with Constance's statement, knowing all too well that her scandal would never blow over.

"We'd have married as soon as we could!"

"Bonacieux may live for years yet." Constance pointed out. "Your children would be bastards…and if you died in battle, what then?" Anna glanced up as Constance's voice caught. "I'd have nothing, not even a soldier's pension. I'd die on the streets; a beggar or a **prostitute**! I'd have no wealth, no position…you never even **tried** to understand what you were asking of me!"

"I know what you want." Anna handed her horse to a stable boy as D'Artagnan cupped Constance's teary face. "It is not a boring life and a joyless marriage." She passed them silently observing the couple as the world around them faded. "You need love and adventure…and you know I can give you both."

"I'm a woman D'Artagnan, in a world built for men." Anna glanced at the pauldron on her arm. "If I lost you…I'd lose everything!" Constance sighed, stepping away from the boy. "I can't take that chance." She turned from him and fled the Garrison.

"What did Rochefort want?" Athos asked her as she joined him, Aramis and Porthos on Treville's mezzanine.

"I'll tell you later." She mumbled, her eyes remaining fixed on the Gascon kicking the dirt floor below them. Knowing her answer would give her enough time to make something up.

"You don't have to keep secrets from us…" Aramis teased, not noticing her flinch at his words. "…we know **all** your dirty laundry." He slung an arm around her shoulder with a grin and led her down to where D'Artagnan was slumped on a bench at their table.

"I think the Captain made a mistake in not taking that job on the King's council." The youngest Musketeer said with a sigh, obviously looking for some topic to take his mind off Constance.

"How do you…" Anna trailed off as she saw the smiles on their faces. "Never mind, if I don't know… I can't be called as a witness." She forced a smile and joined him on the bench.

"He's a soldier born and bred." Athos reminded them. "It's not easy for a man with a good heart to learn the dirty business of politics."

"France needs an honest man by the King's side." Porthos added as he settled in to clean his pistol.

"And better the Captain than Rochefort." Aramis agreed as Anna clenched her fist at the man's name.

"Who will look out for France now?" Athos wondered aloud, rendering them all silent.

"At least the mission was a success." Porthos mused after a moment. "France's secrets are safe."

"But De Foix is dying." Anna reminded them with a glance up to the room the General and Treville were occupying.

"We did everything we could." Aramis told her.

"Obviously not enough." D'Artagnan said darkly.

"With the Cardinal gone, I thought our world would be safer." Athos sighed, placing his hat on his head and holding out a hand for Anna. "Now, I'm not so sure."

The pair nodded goodbye to their little group of Musketeers and exited the Garrison.

"Are you ready to tell me what Rochefort wanted?"

"I'd much prefer to celebrate my return from the palace." She grinned, lifting herself onto her tip-toes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

"Agreed."

* * *

 **A.N. So there it is, the start of season 2. I can't guarantee very regular updates for this, but if you stick with me, I know we'll survive it together. Hope you've all enjoyed and are ready for this series to unfold with Anna at the helm.**


	3. An Ordinary Man

It was a well a known fact that as the sun set over Paris, the city roared to life. Men fell through tavern doors as women in the tightest corsets they owned, walked the streets selling themselves to the highest bidder.

"This is ludicrous." Anna mumbled as she and Athos stepped over the already inebriated as they snored on the cobbled street.

"I know."

"I mean; he's the King!" She said incredulously. "I can't believe you agreed to it!"

"As you said; he's the King, I cannot deny him what he wants." Athos reminded her, stopping her before they turned into the small alley designated as their meeting point. "This is something I must remind you of."

"Honestly, Athos…" She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. "…You don't have to remind me how to behave in front of the King." She stepped away from him and rounded the corner.

"How do I look?" The King grinned at her as they approached the already convened Musketeers.

"Transformed, Your Majesty." She told him, eyeing the monarchs obviously borrowed clothing for any signs of his wealth.

"No, no." He chastised her, his smile still in place. "No 'Your Majesty' tonight." He told them. "Or bowing or fussing or any manner of deference. Tonight, you treat me as an equal, all right? A friend." The men glanced at each other at the King's words. "For one night I will enjoy the same freedom as the most carefree peasant. I mean, must a King be a slave to his duty all his life? Tonight, I'm just like you."

Anna bit back a chuckle as she took in the sight before her; the King stood between three Musketeers, proclaiming her was just 'one of the boys', conveniently ignoring how armed they were and how their eyes were constantly seeking out any threat to the man's life.

"My…erm…my tunic's come undone." The King regained their attention as he gestured to the unbuckled tunic. The men stared at him, reminding themselves of his previous words before D'Artagnan got the message and leant forward to buckle it.

"Have a wonderful evening." Anna said to the men as Louis beamed at her. "I hope it is everything you hope it to be." She nodded to them before leaving them in the alley and heading home. Tonight was not a night she wished to partake in.

* * *

"Come on Porthos!" Louis' voice rang out as the tavern erupted into cheers as Porthos broke out of his opponents choke hold and landed a swift punch to his ribs before effectively flipping him onto his back.

Athos sighed at the sight as he pushed his still full glass around the small table he was occupying beside Louis' as he kept an eye on the King. He nodded to D'Artagnan as the boy brought another pitcher of wine to the King's table and joined him.

Now knowing someone was at Louis side, he allowed his mind to wander away from the bar brawl and instead to Anna and her likely position beside a roaring fire, one of her favourite books in hand.

"This is fun!" He ran a tired hand down his face as the King piped up again. "Oh, how I envy the ordinary life!" he told the two prostitutes at his side before rising from the table. "Right, my turn!"

"I think it's time we called it a night." Athos intercepted him before the man could reach Porthos' opponent as the burly man was helped from the floor by the Musketeer.

Louis opened his mouth to protest but stopped when something at the back of the tavern caught his eye.

"Cards!" He pushed past Athos. "I love cards!" The head Musketeer exchanged a tired glance with D'Artagnan and Porthos before following the King to the card tables.

"Ha! I win again!" Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan rolled their eyes at the King as he sat between two men at the card table. "And you know what the best thing is?" he asked them. "I don't even need the money!" He proclaimed before falling into fits of laughter once more.

"He'll go back to the palace thinking his subjects spend all their time drinking and gambling." D'Artagnan grumbled as they leant against the bar and signalled for another round.

"We should show him what it's really like to be poor in Paris." Porthos smirked as he thought of the King trying to survive in the Court of Miracles. "Or not." He added as Athos shot him a look.

"Yes!" A cry from Louis' card table caught their attention.

"Show me your sleeves, Sir." They watched as the King refused to hand over his money. "Or are they in your boots? Is that where you've hidden them?"

"Are you saying I cheated?!"

"I don't like this." Athos murmured as the scene unfolded before them. "Time to go." He pushed off form the bar and made his way to the King.

"Well how else did you beat me?" Louis asked. "I'm an excellent card player; I always prevail." His opponent let out a roar and knocked the table over as he drew his rapier and moved to attack the King.

"Get him outside!" Athos ordered D'Artagnan as he and Porthos fielded the tavern's regulars as they joined in the fight and the bar descended into chaos. "We'll follow you."

"Your Majesty." D'Artagnan plucked the cup from Louis' hands and led him through the brawl before they were stopped by a man weaving his way effortlessly through the crowds.

"Let's get your friend out the back way…" He offered. "…Before he gets lynched."

"Thank you." D'Artagnan told him as they followed him into a small storage room containing a door that led out into the street. "We won't forget…" the door was slammed before D'Artagnan could finish. "…this." He frowned as the sound of a bolt falling into place sounded through the wood and into the silent alley.

"That was wonderful." The King beamed, a little out of breath. "The life of a commoner is so exciting!" D'Artagnan laughed at the man's child-like wonder. "So exhilarating! So-" The King fell with an oomph as he was struck in the back of the head.

D'Artagnan grabbed for his rapier but was soon overcome by the four men and hit the ground not long after Louis, the alley quickly returning to silence.

* * *

Anna paced the Garrison as she waited for the arrival of a certain Musketeer. She muttered curses under her breath, ignoring the curious glances she received from the other Musketeers at the Garrison as they ate their breakfast.

"Stupid man with a bloody suicide wish, I'll strangle that little…" She trailed off as the man in question strolled into the Garrison, nodding hello to his fellow Musketeers. "…You." She seethed as he approached her, a grin firmly in place.

"Good Morning, Anna." Aramis tipped his hat to the woman as he made to take a seat at their table but let out a small yelp as she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the shadows beneath Treville's office.

"Tell me this isn't true?!" She thrust a small letter into his chest and the man took it and scanned the contents, a frown on his face.

"I doubt it…" He mused. "…I mean, why wouldn't Constance be glad to be away from Bonacieux?"

"Not that!" She almost exploded as she tried to keep her voice low. "This!" She grabbed the letter and read aloud to him. "In other news, I hear that the Dauphin's governess is regularly receiving Aramis into her chambers late at night when she is replaced by night nurses."

"Oh, that." He paled.

"Yes, that." She crumpled the letter and rammed it into her pocket. "What is wrong with you, Aramis?! Have we not time and time again explained why you can't spend time with him?"

"He's my son, Anna!" He whispered furiously.

"No, he's the King's son!" She reminded him. "And he forever will be, unless you want the Queen to be executed for treason!" She watched as a flurry of emotions played over Aramis' features. "I understand your reasons for wanting to be there but…" She took his hand. "…you have to let him go."

"I can't just stop calling on Marguerite." He told her. "That in itself would raise questions." She took a moment to study the anguish in his eyes as he stared down at her.

"Please be careful, Aramis." She squeezed his hand. "You are a brother to me and I…" He interrupted her by pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I know."

* * *

"The Dauphin's christening is tomorrow! If Louis is not in attendance, it will be noted the length of Europe!" Aramis and Anna exchanged a glance as they strode into Treville's office after being called up by Porthos.

"He can't have got far; we will find him." Athos assured the man who looked to be on the verge of a heart attack.

"Find who?" Aramis asked as they stood beside Athos and Porthos.

"Who was the lucky woman this time?" Treville asked a subtle reprimand for Aramis' lateness to the meeting.

"A Musketeer doesn't kiss and tell." He joked, winking at the Captain before noting the grim look on Athos and Porthos' faces.

"Find the King, and do it quickly!" Treville ordered, ignoring him.

"The King is missing?" Anna asked, turning to Athos with a raised eyebrow. The man simply lowered his head and left the room, Porthos in tow. "The King is missing." She reiterated before jogging after them. "How can the King be missing?" She asked as she caught up with them at the entrance to the Garrison.

"It's a long story…" She held up a hand to silence Porthos and focused on Athos as the Musketeer remained silent.

"I told you this was a bad idea." She spat. "I told you and told you but did you listen to me?" Athos grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of earshot as Porthos quickly filled Aramis in.

"This is neither the time nor place to discuss this." He told her, his voice low.

"No, the time to discuss it was last night when you told me of this ludicrous plan!"

"Anna-"

"Don't Anna me!" She ripped her wrist from his grasp. "What happened?!"

* * *

Anna stood stony faced as the three men questioned the owner of the tavern the King and D'Artagnan had disappeared from the previous night. She sneered as the scent of day old ale hit her nostrils and mixed with the other delicious smells of the tavern.

"All drunks look the same to me." The owner shrugged as he collected cups.

"The one who started the fight." Athos tried to jog his memory.

"Which fight? There were a few here last night." The man eyed Porthos carefully and Anna held back a groan at the thought of the King in a bar brawl.

"Don't mess us about." Porthos warned. "They left in a hurry, now start remembering." Porthos was not hiding his irritation as well as Aramis who placed a hand on the larger man's shoulder to calm him.

"Actually…" They all looked back to the owner as he wrung out a sodden cloth. "…I know who you mean." Anna let out a sigh of relief and hoped to God that the King was just passed out in a back room somewhere. "Yeah, no idea what happened to them though…I'll ask around, see if anyone remembers." He reached the bar and plucked a bottle of wine from below it. "Let me quench your thirst." He offered as Aramis tapped on a locked door at the back of the room.

"Where does this lead?"

"Just out the back." He shrugged and offered Anna the glass in his hand as she stared at him, hand held out, waiting for the key. "Fine." He sighed and handed her a rusty key from under the bar.

She tossed the object to Aramis who led them all into a backroom and out into a narrow alley.

"These cobbles look like they've been scrubbed clean, look." Aramis observed as he gestured to a wide area around the door.

"Yeah, definitely." Porthos agreed, crouching to inspect them further. He removed a long dagger from his belt and began lifting the mud from the cobble edges. Porthos sighed as he held the dagger tip up to the light and it shone bright red.

"Blood?" Anna asked as she and Athos returned from searching for any tracks leading in or out of each end of the alley.

"Look at this." They turned to Aramis as he inspected the door leading back into the tavern. "The handle's been sawed off."

"Ah, so once you're out here; there's no way back in." Athos mused, shaking his head. "Time for another chat." He strode through the door and back into the tavern.

* * *

Anna smiled sweetly at the bar owner as Porthos forced him into a chair opposite her. The three men stood back as he began to babble to her.

"It's only a missing door handle, that's all; nothing sinister." She remained quiet as she watched him shift uncomfortably in the seat. "If I reported every strange thing that happened around here, well, I'd be forever in the Garrison and I'd have no customers." He tried to elicit a smile from the stoic woman. "In fact, a door handle isn't the only thing to go missing here lately; I've lost so many glasses, I'm going to have to start weighing them down so no one can lift them from the table tops." He forced a laugh. "So you see I-"

"Your last chance, Gus." Athos told him as he stood behind Anna.

"If I could help you, I would." He studied the pair and noted Athos' hand as it rested on his rapier. "You can't kill me; you're Musketeers…" He glanced around and noticed Aramis cleaning his rifle. "…and you're a woman."

"If you think she's the one to ignore in this situation…you're wrong." Porthos laughed as he distracted the man who, when he turned back to Anna, jumped back at the close proximity of her dagger to his throat.

"If I knew anything, I would tell you." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I swear." Athos tapped her on the shoulder and she reluctantly leant back and re-holstered her dagger.

"This will be far quicker." He murmured to her as he tossed Porthos an axe she had not seen him bring in and watched as the man turned to see Porthos about to strike at one of the many wine barrels lined up behind the bar.

"He pays me!" The owner shouted out, stopping Porthos from destroying his wares. "He pays me…"

Athos smirked at the man's sudden decision to confess his knowledge and pulled up a chair alongside Anna.

"Continue." She urged the man who slumped in his chair, still facing away from them.

"He pays me to get people drunk and send them out the back door."

"Who?" Athos asked, but the man shook his head. "Who?" He pressed, his voice incredibly low as he knocked him in the shoulder to get his attention once more. "Who pays you?" He gripped his shoulder and forcefully turned him to them.

"I don't know his name." He said, trying to fend off more light blows from Athos. "And I don't ask." Anna watched as Athos' eyes darkened at the man's admission. "Questions like that; they can get you killed."

"Ah." Athos feigned sympathy, as Anna noticed just how close he was to the man now and realised she had never seen him act this way in an interrogation.

"First day he came in here, he gave me a choice. He said; _"You do as I say, or I'll burn this place to the ground."_ What was I supposed to do? I was frightened."

"The men you send him; what does he do with them?"

"God knows." He shrugged. "Robs them, probably, and they throws their bodies in the Seine." The man jumped lightly at the growl of irritation that escaped Athos' throat.

* * *

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp!" Anna groaned as they walked through the market and were spotted by the one person she'd been avoiding. "Mademoiselle Beauchamp!"

"Monsieur Bonacieux." She forced a smile as the man caught up with them. "What can I do for you?"

"I was simply curious as to when you'll be paying this month's rent?" She inwardly sighed at the man.

"I left it on the table this morning." She told him and moved to leave him.

"You haven't been home for three nights now." He called after her, stopping her in her tracks. "Will you be joining me for supper tonight?" She glared at Aramis and Porthos as they sniggered behind her.

"I don't know; we're very busy." She told him. "Actually, we're on our way to the mortuary right now so…"

"It's just that Madame Bonacieux left only a limited supply of food and I will be requiring you to prepare my meals." She gritted her teeth as he spoke. "And there is an ever-growing pile of clothing I will need you to have washed and pressed by Monday and-"

"Monsieur, I was led to believe that our arrangement was that I'm your tenant, not your housekeeper?" Anna asked, a light smile on her lips as Bonacieux's gaze flickered over to the three men who were listening intently to the conversation.

"Well of course." He stammered as Porthos' hand curled into a fist and Aramis' hand played with the hammer on his pistol. "But as Madame Bonacieux is otherwise engaged at the palace, it falls to Anna to fulfil her duties…"

"No, Monsieur; it doesn't." Athos told him as Anna hid a grin at the Musketeers defending her. "Now, if you'll excuse us." He tipped his hat to the man and led them away from the market and towards the mortuary.

"Well I'm glad to see that his wife's absence has humbled him." Aramis chuckled as they approached the morgue and passed a woman and her child as they left the hellish place.

"We'll join you momentarily." Athos told them as he gestured for Anna to stay outside with him.

"Yes?" She asked as the two jogged down the steps and into the morgue.

"Bonacieux…" He began. "…that is why you…"

"Why I've spent so much time at your lodgings? Yes." She finished for him. "He's being…difficult, now that Constance has gone." She tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. "But it's nothing I can't deal with." She flashed him a smile. "And don't think that coming to my rescue means I'm letting you off the hook for losing the King."

* * *

"Are your friends young? Old? Fat? Thin?" Anna and Athos descended into the bowels of the mortuary as the coroner questioned Aramis and Porthos.

"20's, dark hair, healthy." Aramis told him. "Before last night anyway."

"One like that just arrived, this way." The coroner gestured for them to follow him to the end of the room.

"I'll stay here, if you don't mind." Anna told them as she held a hand under her nose and tried not to gag. Aramis threw her a smirk as they followed the man and she tried to breathe through her nose.

"Handkerchief, Mademoiselle?" Anna turned to the young boy who was presumably the coroner's assistant.

"Um…" She glanced at the rag he held out to her. "…I'm actually fine now, thank you." She removed the hand from her nose and fought the urge to retch. He shrugged and pocketed the rag before turning back to the papers on the desk in front of him. Anna fingered the papers as the men were showed body after body and frowned when she spotted a list of names. "What's that?" She asked the boy.

"Lost relatives." He told her, handing her the sheet. "The number of people that are being reported missing is getting higher." He sighed. "People come down here, hoping to find them but, most leave without finding their loved ones…so many people; vanishing without a trace." He shook his head.

"Why haven't the authorities been informed?"

"These are the poor and desperate; no one really cares." He told her as cries of relief filtered up to them. Anna turned to see Athos let out a sigh of relief as the final body in the parade was shown to them.

"Can I have this?" She asked the boy who nodded. "Anything?" She asked the men as they re-joined her at the entrance.

"No." Athos said. "But do you remember that summer two years ago?" Anna shrugged as he turned to Aramis and Porthos. "Something similar was going on: drunks and vagrants snatched in the streets?"

"It went on for months until the culprit was finally caught." Aramis told her.

"Sebastian LeMaitre." Porthos added with a scowl. "His gang sold them on as slaves to the Spanish galleys."

"But LeMaitre was caught and sentenced to hard labour in the colonies…it can't be him."

"But didn't he have a brother?" Porthos asked as Athos nodded.

"A blacksmith."

* * *

The trek through the French countryside was never-ending, D'Artagnan noted as he and the King were led through narrow passes in the trees. He bit back a response as he was once again nudged by a wooden baton and urged to move faster.

"This is your fault D'Artagnan." The boy turned to Louis as the King breathed heavily beside him. "I should never have allowed you to talk me into visiting that tavern."

D'Artagnan refrained from rolling his eyes at the King and instead focused on the chains around his ankles and whether faking an injury would stop the procession of prisoners long enough for the Musketeers to catch up with them.

"If I could only convince them that I am King." Louis sighed.

"No!" D'Artagnan whispered to the man. "You must not tell them who you are!"

"Of course I should." Louis scoffed. "Then they would have to let us go."

"They'll kill us and bury the evidence rather than risk being hanged for treason!"

"Nonsense." Louis scoffed again. "They're brutes, but they would never dare kill their king. Look, allow me to reason with them."

"No!"

"You there! On the horse!" Louis called out to the leader of this group of kidnappers.

The man stopped and the procession halted, the sudden lack of movement causing one man to fall to the floor. Louis watched aghast as the man was whipped relentlessly and ordered to stand.

"What is your name?" He was asked, still being whipped.

"Pepin." He whimpered.

"Well, Monsieur Pepin, the life you've had is over. Gone. And where you are going is no place for the weak." He laughed humourlessly. "Now get up." He cocked his gun at the groaning man and spoke to the rest of the prisoners. "I leave this man's fate in your hands; carry him, or I kill him…your choice."

The group was silent as they all stared at the fallen man and tried to discern how much of a dead weight he was going to be.

"I'll carry him." D'Artagnan spoke up.

"Where you're going…" The leader pointed his gun at the young Musketeer. "…a soft heart will kill you quicker than typhoid." He gestured for Pepin to be dragged to D'Artagnan's feet.

"Be careful." The boy told them as they dropped him to the ground.

"Why must we carry him?" Louis asked, astounded at D'Artagnan's actions.

"I'll carry him myself." He assured the King as he crouched and supported Pepin.

"You're supposed to be looking after me!" Louis all but stomped his foot as D'Artagnan began moving with Pepin.

* * *

"Sebastian LeMaitre never made it to the Americas." Athos told Anna as the blonde entered the Garrison. "He bribed his way off the transport ship and disappeared and now he's back plying his old trade."

"Snatching men off the streets and selling them to the Spanish." She sighed as Aramis and Porthos dragged LeMaitre's blacksmith brother into an interrogation room in the Garrison.

"Any luck at the dockyard?"

"No." She placed her hat on their table and allowed her hair to fall from its messy bun. "There's no record of a ship with men as the cargo leaving Paris in the last week." She secured the blonde tendrils into a tight bun atop her head and sighed. "So they're on the forest paths to another port but we'll never be able to figure out which unless…" She gestured to the room Aramis and Porthos had locked the blacksmith in.

"The dockers talked to you without an order signed by the King?" The pair turned as Treville approached them.

"Francois and I have an understanding." Anna told him and the Captain quirked an eyebrow. "He talks to me or I talk to his wife and tell her about the little ones he's fathered with his mistress." She shrugged. "So he gave me a list of ports that have Spanish ships docked in them…" She handed him the paper. "…and we're hoping the blacksmith will tell us which his brother is heading to."

"No need." Treville told her as he studied the page. "Honfleur." He pointed at the name. "It's only a day's ride from Paris and he can avoid main roads by taking the Forest of Evreux."

"And then from Rouen, he can travel by river to the port." Anna added, a mental map of France flashing in her mind.

"The ship from Honfleur, when is it scheduled to leave?" Athos asked and the Captain glanced down to the paper in his hand.

"Tomorrow evening."

"Then we catch them at Rouen." Anna told them. "There's a pass that's covered on both sides by rocks, it's an ideal place to camp, especially if you're trying to hide a large group." Treville nodded his consent for the mission as Athos waved Porthos and Aramis over.

"I bet you're glad I sent you on all those trips now, huh?" The Captain forced a smile as he tried to not think of the King locked in the brig of a Spanish ship.

* * *

The rocky pass at Rouen was full of men as D'Artagnan and the King staggered into the widest part of the path, Pepin's arms across each of their shoulders and both bearing his weight as they carried the unconscious man between them.

Slowly, their chains were unlinked and they were guided to a small area on the outskirts of the large camp where they were able to deposit the man and finally be relieved of his weight, before they were dragged to a small stump and once again chained together.

"Money, medals, belt buckles…all of it goes in here." The leader waved a small sack around as each man was stripped of his possessions. "And if you're thinking of holding anything back, be certain you're prepared to die for it."

D'Artagnan removed his belt with a sigh as the King begrudgingly removed his many rings and dropped them into the sack. The men watched as the sack was quickly filled before it was transported to a tent pitched high above the pass.

Moments later, the man they believed to be in charge of this operation returned from the tent and headed straight for them.

"You." They both turned to the man as he strode through the crowd of stolen men. "On your feet." They both scrambled to stand before the man as he stopped in front of them. "Let me see your hands." He said to Louis who glanced confusedly at D'Artagnan before holding his hands out. The man inspected his palms before stepping back and raising his pistol.

"I can't let you hurt him." D'Artagnan stepped in front of the barrel as Louis raised his hands.

"Well that is a problem that is easily solved." The man raised another pistol and pointed it at D'Artagnan.

"Wait!" They turned as woman ran through the crowds. "Killing them would be a mistake."

"Look at his hands." The man said. "He's a gentleman; he has friends with influence who'll make sure the authorities search for him." D'Artagnan was speechless as the woman calmly spoke to the man.

"By the time they start looking we will be long gone." She assured him. "They are the fittest men here; they'll fetch five times as much as anyone else. Why throw money away?" The man nodded and begrudgingly lowered his pistols and leaving them.

* * *

"Galley slaves?!" Louis exclaimed as the true reason for their capture was explained to them.

"Please keep your voice down." D'Artagnan whispered to him as the now awake Pepin looked around to see if his loudness had caught anyone's attention.

"This cannot happen; we are not beggars or criminals!" Louis protested.

"None of us are." Pepin told him. "My wife and daughter will think I've abandoned them…fled into the night like some coward."

"This is outrageous…and against the laws of France."

"The authorities don't care." Pepin shrugged. "We could petition the King but nothing would change."

"If the King knew about this; he would stop it immediately." Louis told him. "He's very fair minded and generous and clever and-"

"He's a buffoon." Pepin interrupted him. "Preening and prancing in his palace; totally ignorant of the people that he governs." Louis scowled at the man's words and D'Artagnan quickly intercepted the conversation.

"Louis is our King, and a good man." He reminded the man. "He deserves our respect." Louis smiled gratefully as Pepin looked away from them, his head low.

Louis opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the arrival of a man on horseback.

"Who's that?" D'Artagnan murmured as the man dismounted his horse and embraced their captor. He listened for any semblance of conversation between the men but all he caught was

"Gus sent me" He frowned as he tried to think of anyone he knew by the name of Gus. "He wanted me to let you know that the Musketeers are after you." D'Artagnan perked up at the mention of his regiment.

"Then you'd better make sure you stop them." They shared a grin before retiring to the tent.

D'Artagnan sighed as they disappeared into the shelter and their conversation was hidden form them all. He leant back against the stump they were chained to and watched as Pepin was ordered to rise and fetch water for the men.

"Pepin has the right to an opinion, but, I assure you; his views aren't shared by anyone." He told the King as the man limped away from them.

"What does it matter?" Louis mumbled. "France will be rid of me soon, anyway."

"That's not true."

"My father was a great King…" Louis ignored D'Artagnan. "…much loved and I…I'm always found wanting, compared to him. I know that." He smiled ruefully. "I was only eight when he was assassinated; a child, fatherless…robbed of so much." He too leant back against the stump. "It's not the hardship of the galleys that I dread the most; it is a life apart from my son." D'Artagnan nodded at the King's words, feeling honoured to have such an insight into the usually so upbeat monarch's life. "What of your father?"

"He was killed when we came to Paris." D'Artagnan told him, the memory of his father's murder still so fresh in his mind.

"But when you were a boy, he taught you things?" Louis asked. "How to hunt and shoot…to live your life with honour?"

"Yes." D'Artagnan smiled as he thought of the many years his father had spent moulding him into the man he was today.

"All that was taken from me; and now it will be taken from my son too."

* * *

Night fell over the makeshift camp and as Louis rested against the small wooden pole, D'Artagnan lay gazing up at the inky sky, his mind full of times past n Gascony with his father.

He turned his head as the sound of a pistol's hammer being pulled back filed the air and almost groaned as a heeled boot held him in place on the rocky floor.

"Milady de Winter." He greeted the woman who had saved their lives hours earlier. "I see you've gone up in the world."

"I'm not the one destined for a Spanish galley." She reminded him with a smirk, her pistol still pointing at his face.

"Your new friends will tire of you soon." He nodded towards the tent as its lanterns marked it out against the rocky backdrop. "And then what? A miserable life, plying your trade in some low-life brothel?"

"I thought you liked me, D'Artagnan?" She dug her heel further into his chest. "You seemed eager enough, once or twice or three times, I seem to recall." She taunted as he hissed at the pressure.

"And the thought of it makes me sick: I'd rather sleep with a polecat." He told her sincerely before using the weight she was forcing into her leg against her as he tripped her and stole the pistol.

"You won't shoot me." She told him smugly as he aimed it at her. "It would simply ensure your own death and that of the King." She gestured to the man asleep beside him, effectively revealing that she knew his true identity. "Give me the gun…and I'll set you free." She held up a ring of keys as shook them tauntingly. D'Artagnan glared at her before slowly having the weapon over and holding out his chains for release. "I saved your life; remember that." She warned him as she shook awake the King and undid his chains.

"What's going on?" He asked as he rubbed his free wrists.

"You must go." She told him. "Your friend will help."

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

"Just think of me as a Good Samaritan." D'Artagnan snorted at her choice of words.

"An angel more like." The King grinned as they stood.

"The leg irons?" D'Artagnan asked as she began to walk away from them.

"No time; just go!" She whispered behind her as she ran back to the tent. D'Artagnan stared at the restricting chains before grabbing the King's wrist and leading him from the camp as fast as they could.

* * *

The port of Honfleur was relatively quiet in the early morning hours. The few ships in the harbour were still, no sign of their crews or any of the other people synonymous to a dock. In fact, Anna felt that the stillness of the area was rather unnerving; she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to keep out the breeze skimming the water surface before it attacked them and shuffled closer to Porthos who was well known to be a constant source of heat, even in the coldest of winters.

"That's very valuable information, Monsieur." Aramis thanked the Harbour Master as they ended their conversation. "For your troubles." He dropped a small velvet purse into the man's hand and returned to the waiting Musketeers.

"What did he say?"

"That it's late and he was asleep, and wasn't too happy about being dragged out of his warm bed."

"Yeah, apart from that?"

"The Spanish ship leaves at high tide, early tomorrow afternoon." Aramis told them. "And the Captain is expecting to load their cargo son after sunrise."

"So we got here before them?" Porthos asked.

"LeMaitre wouldn't rest up in town…he'll be holed up for the night somewhere isolated but not far off; get his prisoners on board early."

"Before anyone starts asking awkward questions." Anna agreed with Athos.

"Well, we can wait here and risk having to fight the Spanish as well, or we track down LeMaitre before he breaks camp." Aramis weighed up each option as he spoke.

"The impasse I told you about." Anna turned to Athos as she unrolled the map the Harbour Master had given them and pointed to the rock lined passage to the port. "It's maybe 20 minutes on horseback from here…that's what, 2 hours maximum on foot, the perfect distance?"

"Every second the King is in their hands increases the danger…we can't risk any delay." Porthos reminded them as Anna pointed the impasse out to Aramis.

"We'll search every cove and tributary if we have to." Athos sighed as she re-rolled the map and left it atop a barrel for the Harbour Master. "We'll find them."

* * *

D'Artagnan and Louis continued to make their way through the forest underbrush as the sky lightened and the sun began to peek through the treeline.

"How much further must we walk?" Louis sighed, stumbling over the chains still around his ankles.

"Until we are certain we are safe." D'Artagnan told him for the third time.

"When I was a boy and I was tired, my valet would carry me." Louis sighed wistfully.

"My father carried me." D'Artagnan smiled. "Sometimes I'd pretend I couldn't walk another step…just to be in his arms."

"That's only because you didn't have a valet." The King joked as he tugged at the ripped sleeve of his borrowed outfit.

D'Artagnan smiled at the man before he quickly shushed him as the sound of approaching horses filled the air.

"Run." He whispered to Louis as the sound neared and the men began to flee from the sound. "Wait, wait!"

He called out as the King ran madly away from them, not paying any attention to the shout as he stumbled down into a ditch and rolled down a forest hill, coming to stop on the leafy floor. D'Artagnan sighed as he watched the King disappear from view and glancing behind him to gauge their pursuers distance, he ran in the same direction and joined Louis at the foot of the hill.

He groaned as he rolled onto his back, checking his side for any injuries as their pursuers stopped at the top of the hill. He sighed as they smirked down at them before making their way down and re-chaining them.

"Nice try." They chortled as they all but dragged them back to camp.

* * *

"How far from the impasse are we?" Athos asked as he steered his horse to fall into step beside Anna's.

"Not very." She assured him, confident in the trail she and Aramis had agreed on as she led them through the forest.

"Did you hear that?" Aramis asked from behind them.

"Hear what?" Porthos frowned. "There's nothing here."

"Exactly." Aramis gestured to the trees. "No bird song, no animals, nothing."

The four Musketeers shared a look before dismounting their horses and listening closely to the forest for any hint of anything untoward. Athos pointed to the end of the track they were following and motioned for them to follow his lead.

He led the horse as quietly as possible to the end of the path and stopped as it began to dip into a small passage, covered on both sides by excellent vantage points for any waiting assailants. He released the horse's reins and let it gallop the rest of the path, minus its rider, motioning for them to do the same.

"What the-" Athos crept up behind one of the waiting men and apprehended him swiftly, nodding as Porthos followed his motions along the pass and quickly left the heavily armed men motionless on the rocks as Aramis and Anna covered them, their pistols never missing their targets as one-by-one the men fell.

"The blacksmith." Porthos growled as he spotted a man fleeing the scene and quickly took after him, pistols in hand.

"Don't kill me!" They heard the man plead as they caught up with Porthos and the only remaining assailant. "Don't shoot me; I'll tell you everything!"

"That's got to hurt." Anna grimaced as she noticed the bear trap the blacksmith's foot was caught in. "I'll go get the horses." She tipped her hat to the groaning man and left to find their steeds.

"It's Gus!" He told them as Porthos inspected the hunters trap. "Not me!" He gagged at the sight of the blood gushing from his ankle. "It was all his idea; he's in charge."

"Your brother's camp, where is it?" Athos asked, as he waved Porthos away from helping free the foot, using the agony the man was obviously in to gain information.

"A mile south, by the river; they're hidden in an impasse." He told them. "Now for God's sake, get this thing off me!"

Athos nodded to Porthos as he placed his foot on one side of the trap and Porthos pulled the other, effectively freeing the foot as Aramis pulled him to stand.

"Here." Anna threw him a length of rope as she rode back into the clearing, three horses happily following her as she held their reigns.

Aramis caught the binds and propped the blacksmith against his horse as he secured his hands.

"This won't be the most comfortable ride of your life." He assured him just as gunshots rang out not far from them.

"I told you we weren't far." Anna called out as she dug her heels into the horse and galloped off towards the out breaking fight.

* * *

"I am Louis, son of Henry IV, of the House of Bourbon and Marie de Medici; I am your **King**." D'Artagnan hung his head as Louis revealed himself to the men of the camp. "You cannot treat me like this." He spat before raising his chained hands and using the weight to almost knock their captor out as he swung.

"Sire." Pepin gasped as D'Artagnan caught the King, the momentum of his swing almost causing him to fall. "I-"

"Kill them all!" They were interrupted as a small army of men rode into the clearing, pistols already firing.

"Gus." D'Artagnan swore as he recognised their leader of the group to be the 'helpful innkeeper' from the night before. "Here." He rushed to retrieve the keys that had fallen from their captor's belt as he scrambled to his feet and ran from the shooters. "Unlock the chains." He handed them to Pepin after undoing his own restraints and collecting three pistols. He tossed one to each of them as they ran for cover behind a narrow wagon. "Save your shot until you absolutely have to use it." He told Louis as the man clutched the pistol.

"I absolutely had to use it." Louis told him as he rose and fired at a man who ran around the wagon, intending to shoot D'Artagnan.

"If we are to die, this is how I want it to be; by my King's side, fighting to give us our freedom, not in the belly of some ship!" Pepin proclaimed as he readied his pistol.

"We're not going to die." D'Artagnan assured him. "We just need to get to the trees." He pointed to the start of the tree line, not far from their spot. "Ready?" He asked before charging from the wagon and heading for the trees.

D'Artagnan waved Louis forward as they approached the trees and turned as soon as the King was safe to help Pepin. He reached out for the man who was not far behind but felt his breath catch as the man fell to his knees, hand out, almost at the forest line.

"Pepin!" He shouted as the man's shooter continued to approach. "Get up! Come on!" He urged as the shooter smirked, dismounted his horse and strolled to Pepin. "Pepin!" He called once more as the pistol was lifted and a shot fired, causing the kneeling man to fall forward, no more breath in his chest. "No!" He felt hands on his shoulders as Louis pulled him back and away from Pepin's body. "No!" He was dragged back into the undergrowth, hand still reaching out for their fallen friend.

* * *

They ran as fast as they could across the unpredictable forest terrain, the sound of hooves never far behind. D'Artagnan ushered Louis into a small gap between two rocks as they slowed on a small incline. He took a breath before removing the rapier he had collected at the camp and turning to face their pursuer.

"I thought you'd never stop running." He dropped the rapier as Milady de Winter rode into view, leading two horses behind her own. "Quickly, we must hurry." She told them as D'Artagnan waved the King forward, the man beaming at her arrival.

"My angel." He breathed as D'Artagnan helped into one of the empty saddles and they rode through the empty forest. "You've saved my life twice now." He observed as the trees passed them in a blur. "You must tell me who you are."

"I am nobody." Milady told him as D'Artagnan shot her a look. "Like you, I was snatched by the gang; forced into criminality…but at least now I have a chance to start afresh." He rolled his eyes at the story she was spinning.

"Wait here." D'Artagnan told them as they came to a stop a short distance from the impasse. "I'll see if anyone's following." He glared a warning to Milady as he rode ahead, leaving her alone with the King.

"How can I repay you for the debt that I owe you?"

"I wish no repayment." She told him. "Only that you don't think any less of because of how we met." She smiled coyly at him.

"Never."

"Oh, I feel faint." She placed a hand against her brow as Louis swung down from his horse and rushed to her side just in time to catch her as she swayed atop her horse. "All the fear and excitement has turned me light headed." She told him as she lay in his arms. "Thank you." She whispered as he placed her on her feet, his arms around her waist. She glanced up at him from under her lashes before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

They parted as D'Artagnan galloped back into view, eyeing her and her intimate embrace critically.

"There's someone coming." He told them. "Get back." He joined them behind a bush as a horse's whinny filled the air. "Give me your pistol." He said to Milady. "Now!" He urged as she hesitated before begrudgingly handing over a weapon.

"I keep this only to protect myself." She told Louis as D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and got into position as the horses neared.

He took a breath and walked out onto the path, ready to fire, before letting out a laugh of relief and dropping the weapon.

"Am I glad to see you!" He shouted to the four Musketeers as they came to a stop.

"Is the King safe?" Athos asked they all peered down at D'Artagnan, smiles on their faces. "Thank God, Your Majesty." He breathed as the King wandered out to join D'Artagnan.

"Allow me to introduce our saviour!" He beamed at the group as Anna and Athos swung down from their saddles to stand opposite the King. "We owe this lady our lives." He held out a hand to help someone out from the bush.

"You have got to be kidding me." Anna murmured as Milady de Winter grinned at the King.

"Your Majesty…" D'Artagnan turned to the King."…she was part of the criminal band that kidnapped you in the first place!" He protested. "She should be held for questioning." Anna felt her hand instinctively move to rest on her pistol as she and Milady's eyes met.

"With respect, Your Majesty, we don't know what other crimes she's committed." Aramis agreed as he joined them on the ground.

"This humble woman has shown true nobility of character." Louis defended her. "Her crimes are hereby pardoned." Anna felt her jaw tighten as he smiled at her and turned to ensure their prisoner was secure.

"You have made a new woman of me, Your Majesty." She told him as she sank to her knees.

"Did she really save your life?" Anna asked D'Artagnan as he moved to stand beside her.

"For her own reasons, but…yes." She sighed at his admission but patted him on the shoulder, dismissing him.

"Athos." Porthos called out to their leader as Gus and his remaining troops trotted into view.

"Porthos, D'Artagnan; ride with the King to Paris." He ordered them as Gus' men began to approach. "We'll hold them here as long as we can."

"What? Just the three of you?" The King asked incredulously as Aramis helped him into his saddle.

"Four." D'Artagnan told him. "I'm staying." Anna threw him a wink as she tossed him a spare pistol.

"Help them now, and I will grant you clemency for your crimes." Louis offered the blacksmith, who was still sat atop a horse, his ankle wrapped and hands bound.

"I will!" He held his hands out for the ties to be cut and a pistol placed in them. "Thank you, Sire." He left the saddle and limped to take cover.

"Go!" Athos ordered Porthos as Gus' men began to fire. The man nodded and led the King from the battle as fast as he could, with Milady following. "Ready?" He asked as they covered both sides of the path. "Now." He told them calmly as one-by-one they fired on the men, watching them drop.

"They've had enough." Anna sighed as she watched the remaining men run back to safety. "Why does no one want to stay and finish a fight these days?"

"Stand and fight, you cowards!" Gus shouted to his men as they ran past him.

"Looks like I spoke too soon." She murmured as Gus readied his rapier in an attempt to take on the four Musketeers, single handed.

"Wait." D'Artagnan said as he stepped out from his spot. "He's mine." They dropped their weapons as the boy strode across the path and stood before Athos. "May I?" He asked and pulled the Musketeer's scarf from his neck and wound it around his hands, not waiting for an agreement.

Gus let out a roar as he spurred his horse onwards, rapier at the ready, while D'Artagnan simply focused on the scarf.

He watched as Gus galloped towards him, rapier swinging, but just as the tip was about to slice into D'Artagnan, the boy leapt aside and wrapping the scarf around the blade, he pulled Gus from his saddle. He tossed the blade and caught its hilt just as Gus hit the floor and spared not a second before plunging it into his stomach.

"For Pepin." He spat, unwinding the scarf from his hands and re-joining the Musketeers.

"Stylish." Aramis murmured as they watched from the path. "He gets a ten from me."

* * *

The cathedral was silent as the Queen stood before the opulent alter; Captain Treville at her side, Constance and her ladies in waiting behind her with the Dauphin in Marguerite's arms. The man glanced at the woman and her bowed head as she stood with her back to vast congregation, praying for the strength she would need as the Dauphin's regent, now that it was more than likely the King was not returning.

Treville shifted on the marble floor as he thought of the Musketeers he had deployed to find the King and felt his stomach drop as he recalled that he had received no word of their whereabouts and was now forced to assume them also dead.

His mind wandered to the Garrison and how quiet it had been without his four best men and the regiment's only woman; it wasn't exactly a secret how much he favoured those five and the bond they seemed to have formed.

He smiled as he thought of how D'Artagnan, their newest recruit, looked up to the three men he was constantly surrounded with, especially Athos, who the boy had come to see as a mentor, the man always finding the time to help him practice his sword work and endlessly encouraging him to best his records. But it was easy to see how fond of him the other two men were also especially as they offered unsolicited advice for the young boy and were rewarded with a sharp smack from the matriarch of the group for being so teasing.

Aramis, undoubtedly the best shot amongst the men, and the most notorious among the women of Paris too. He smiled as he fondly recalled how many times the men had been deployed to alert Aramis to a 'highly dangerous and time-sensitive' mission in an attempt to spare the man the wrath of the women he bedded before sneaking out the next morn and using Porthos as a shield.

Porthos – the muscle of the group. In all his years, Treville had never seen anyone lift as much as him and so effortlessly too. The Captain admired how nimble the large man could also be, easily sneaking around people before apprehending them and deftly hiding numerous cards up his sleeves as he gambled with the Red Guards.

And Athos, the silent Musketeer who's rage was unmatched when the man finally let it loose. The stoic Musketeer was the natural leader of the little group, his orders rarely questioned as he analysed every aspect of the situation.

Treville saw so much of his younger self in the Musketeer; he was a natural born soldier despite his noble background and even though Treville was sure the relationship he and Anna tried to keep quiet was probably against a rule or two, he couldn't deny them any semblance of happiness after tearing them apart for so many years. And, he had to admit, he was often impressed by how well they managed to keep their relationship and their jobs separate, even when Anna was physically biting her lip to stop herself questioning Athos.

Antoinette…as much as he admired the men, his heart almost stopped as his mind rolled around to the final Musketeer on the group. The girl was as close as he would ever come to having a daughter. He had to admit that when she turned up on his door all those years ago, demanding a place in his ranks, he never thought she would be a competent Musketeer, but he had soon changed his mind when he saw her pinning man after man to the floor of his Garrison using only a dagger and her wits.

It had killed him to send her so far from Paris, but they both knew that a man suddenly turning up in Spain would raise far more eyebrows than a woman, and they couldn't argue with the results; within weeks she had become the King's favoured mistress and often accompanied him on trips where she could sneak a peek at official documents and pass information over the border.

It was such a cliché to say that her return has brought a little more sunshine into the Garrison, but he truly saw how all his men cheered when she was around; asking after their wives and children, but it was the glint's in the eyes of his most trusted that pleased him the most. The four men stood a little taller when their matriarch smiled at them; her laughter infectious and her love for her brothers unrelenting.

He shook his head to clear all thoughts of his Musketeers and instead focused on the hard set of the Queen's shoulders as she awaited the beginning of her son's Christening and the impending notice of her husband's fate. She lifted her head and turned to Treville. With a small smile, she stepped forward to stand at the bottom of the aisle, preparing to lead the Christening procession.

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as the doors to the Cathedral were opened and the King strode through, clad in full dress uniform and a group of five un-mistakable Musketeers following him.

"My apologies…" He said to the Queen as he met her at the base of the aisle. "…I was detained." Treville let out a sigh of relief as he took her hand and led the Dauphin to the waiting priests.

"My dear brothers and sisters…" The priest addressed the congregation as the Dauphin was laid in Louis arms. "…we now ask God to give this child new life in abundance, through water…" He gently poured holy water over the gurgling baby's hair. "…and the Holy Spirit." He made the sign of the cross on the Dauphin's forehead and Anna smiled sadly as she felt Aramis clutch the small crucifix around his own neck as he watched his son's formal entry into the church.

Louis turned to ace the congregation as sunlight streamed through the stain glass windows above the alter, casting a heavenly glow onto the child. Anna joined the crowd as they bowed to the young prince, glad that they were able to get not only the King here in time, but Aramis too.

* * *

"D'Artagnan, your bravery and loyalty during our ordeal deserves recognition." The King said as he paced the throne room of the Louvre. Anna smiled as the boy's chest puffed out proudly at his King's words and she glanced around the small semi-circle she was stood in to see that smile echoed on the faces of Porthos, Aramis, Athos and the Captain while Rochefort stood stoically beside them at the end. "I have a special gift for you." He waved him forward and as D'Artagnan stepped before the King, Louis turned and spoke directly to the blacksmith they had arrested earlier that day. "You have the honour of executing this traitor." At his words, two guards stepped up and apprehended the prisoner.

"You promised me clemency!"

"Which I am granting: a quick death is far more than you deserve."

"No, no, Sire, please!"

"This man fought to protect you." D'Artagnan tried to reason with the King.

"He did it to save his own neck." Louis waved away the comment, no traces of the vulnerable man in the forest evident in him as he stood in his throne room, properly dressed. "Which you will now sever."

"You gave him your word." D'Artagnan tried to stress the importance of this but once again failed.

"Are you taking sides with a traitor against your own King?" Louis demanded. The room was tense as D'Artagnan paused to consider his next words carefully

"I am a soldier…" He told Louis. "…not an executioner." He bowed to the King, hoping his words resonated with the man in any way.

"Allow me, Your Majesty." Anna almost rolled her eyes as Rochefort stepped forward, unsheathing his rapier.

"No, no!" Anna turned from the scene as Rochefort stalked towards the prisoner and deftly ran him through.

"Thank you Rochefort, at least I have one loyal soldier." The King sighed as the blonde man moved away from the Musketeers to stand beside the King. "First…" The King strode to stand before Athos at the beginning of the line. "…you take me to that tavern…" He moved to Porthos. "…put my life in danger…" D'Artagnan. "…and now this." He moved past Aramis and Anna to speak directly to Treville. "Why do you Musketeers insist on disappointing me?"

Anna wanted to run forward and wipe the smug smile pulling at the corners of Rochefort's lips off of his face as the King turned and strode out of the room, the blacksmiths bloody body being dragged behind him.

"Is there a problem, Mademoiselle Beauchamp?" He asked as she remained in her position, ignoring the looks the other Musketeers were throwing her as they left the chamber.

"I don't know what your plan is…" She told him. "…but I'll find it out and when I do; I'm coming for you." He let out a laugh at her threat and crossed the room to stand before her.

"We both know that's an empty threat…unless you want your little adventures in Espana becoming common knowledge?" She glared at him as he continued to taunt her. "And we all know how that would end; your head on a chopping block as the King denies any knowledge of spying in Spain."

"What do you want from me, Rochefort?"

"Ah, dear Anna." He smirked at her. "All in good time."

* * *

"Bruno was a thug." D'Artagnan admitted as they all made their way down a narrow Parisian street. "But the King made a deal and betrayed it…that's unforgivable."

"The King was frightened and angry." The Captain reasoned. "In his heart, he's not a bad person."

"We saved his life!" D'Artagnan exclaimed. "We did." He gestured to the four Musketeers behind himself and the Captain. "And that's the thanks we get?"

"He wanted a taste of the real world…and he didn't like it." Athos commented as he and Anna brought up the rear of the group.

"And someone has to be to blame." Porthos sighed as they all stopped in the middle of the street to continue to conversation.

"Today, that was us." Aramis concluded as Anna checked the small slip of paper she had gotten from the mortuary.

"This is it." She sighed, nodding to the door they were paused outside. Silently, they all removed the small coin purses they carried and emptied their contents into a larger one as D'Artagnan stepped forward to knock on the door.

"Madame Pepin?" He asked as a woman came to the door. She peered curiously at the group behind D'Artagnan as they all stood grim faced, hats in hand.

"Yes?"

"My name is D'Artagnan, of the King's Musketeers." He showed her the fleur-de-lis on his pauldron. "I'm here about your husband."

"Is he safe?"

"He died in service of the Crown; fighting to protect the King." They all hated this part of the job; telling families that they would never see their loved ones again. It was always the young widows that caused Anna the most pain; their love for their husbands was still so fresh and they had been cruelly ripped from them. "His Majesty sent me here today to give you this." He handed her the purse. "To express his personal gratitude…were it not for the Dauphin's Christening, he would be here himself." He lied to her. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

They all felt their hearts drop as a young girl came to stand in the doorway, her concern for Madame Pepin clear on her face.

"Hello." D'Artagnan greeted her. "You know, your father was a very brave man and he loved you and your mother very much…always remember that."

"Thank you." Madame Pepin choked out as her daughter hugged her waist.

"You're welcome." He told her as they turned and re-entered the house, tears flowing down both their faces.

The Musketeers took a collective deep breath before donning their hats and leaving the small street.

* * *

"God, I'm exhausted." Anna grumbled as she followed Athos up to his lodgings. "And once I've collected my things from your room, I have to return to Bonacieux to cook and clean in Constance's absence." She huffed as Athos chuckled and searched for his keys. "It's not funny; it's depressing." She told him as he opened the door for her to enter the small room.

"I'm sure you'll soon find a way out of this situation."

"Yes, I'm sure people will line up to let me rent rooms from them once Bonacieux has spread the news that I creep out to spend time with my Musketeer lover." She said sarcastically. "And when I show them my pauldron and pistol? Oh I'll be beating them away with sticks." She shot him a deadpan look as she stood in the centre of the room. "We both know that only reason I got that room in the first place was because Constance liked me." She kicked a chest that looked as though it had been dropped quickly in the centre of the room. "I mean…" She trailed off as the chest caught her attention once more. "…how long has that been here?" She turned to Athos and found him lounging against the wall, smiling at her.

She frowned at his knowing smile and turned back to the new item of furniture. Crouching, she un-latched its bolt and threw open the lid.

"These are…this is…" She trailed off as her eyes roamed through the contents of the chest. "…These are my clothes." She concluded as she held up one of the few dresses she owned. "But…how?" She turned to him, the dress still held to her body.

"I had them picked up and delivered upon our arrival back in Paris." He told her as he crossed the room and placed the dress back in the chest. "While you were changing for the palace, the stable boys paid Bonacieux a visit and..." He gestured to the wooden item.

"You moved my things to your room?" She asked dubiously. "Just so I don't have to spend time with Bonacieux?" She frowned at him. "My landlord is an ass so you're willing to half your living space?"

"This isn't the first time we've shared a bedroom, Anna." He laughed, stepping away from her and placing his hat on the small table.

"Yes but…" She ran a hand through her hair. "…the whole reason I lodged with Constance in the first place was because we agreed to keep this…" She gestured between them. "…and this…" She pointed to her pauldron. "…separate." She paused. "I just want you to know exactly what this means to me." She told him, as she took his hand. "I'm a Musketeer through and through, Athos. But the moment I'm dismissed by Treville I'm just a girl in a big city hoping to spend time with the man I-"

His lips covered hers in an instant, effectively silencing her and ending the conversation. He poured as much as he could into that one kiss, hoping she understood that he did understand the significance of her belongings living alongside his, because, even though they both knew there was no going back to their life in Pinon, there were elements that he would forever hold onto and want.

As his arms encircled her waist and hers came to rest atop his shoulders, Athos knew exactly why this small room had been nothing more than a place to collapse in when he was drunk; it was because she hadn't been here. She'd been taken from him before they could even explore the city, never mind the change in their relationship. He knew the moment he had opened the door for her and spotted that single chest, he could finally start to see this building, and not the Garrison, as his true home in Paris.


	4. The Good Traitor

**A.N. Hello everyone! Just a quick note to prepare you for the chapter ahead.**

 **So, one of the last reviews I received on Le Mousquetaire Femme was that _Romantic Journalist_ wanted some more 'bromance' between Aramis and Porthos. While I haven't exactly focused on that in this chapter, I have decieded to write the Musketeer mission from Aramis' POV as a bit of change and I can honestly say that I've rather enjoyed capturing his stance on a lot of things in this episode.  
Unfortunately though, focusing on one Musketeer means losing another so we haven't got much of Porthos in this episode but I think it's ok (God, I hope it's okay, it's taken me aaages to write this one!).**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy and feel free to drop me a review with any notes or comments, I love reading them and I just wanted to say a massive thank you for all of the views this as had so far - 706 in 25 days!**

* * *

The people of Paris ran for cover as the rain thoroughly soaked everything it touched. The day itself had been a miserable one; the sky grey and the air on the wrong side of crisp, so when the heavens had opened in the early evening, it had been no surprise to anyone.

Treville had dismissed all the Musketeers except for an essential few who took turns standing guard at the entrance to the Garrison. The Captain himself was sat alone in his rooms, a few candles as the only light source against the miserable darkness of the night. He'd happily ignored the mountains of paper on his desk and instead turned to his humble kitchen and dining space. Here, he focused only on the small block of wood in his hands, a small smile on his lips as his hands deftly carved the wood into the desired shape.

"I warn you; I am a desperate man." That was the first he heard of his intruder as a blade was held to his throat. Treville mentally cursed his carelessness. "If you resist, I will kill you."

The Captain surprised himself with how calm he was being in this situation, his mind not focusing on the curved blade about to end his life, but instead on the poor lad he'd stationed for the first watch who he hoped his assailant had merely knocked unconscious and not killed.

"I want an audience with your King…" Treville felt his eyebrows rise at the words. He had noted the uncommon lilt to the man's accent but only know did he piece together the fact that man was not of France. "…And I have no time to waste." He fought the urge to smirk as a gun cocked to the right of him.

"Drop it." The order was simple, but the threat in his Lieutenants voice was obvious.

"Do as he says…" Another pistol on his left also cocked. "…or we will kill you where you stand." The knife moved away from the soft skin of his throat and that was Treville needed before pushing the man away and quickly leaving the chair.

He strode to stand on the other side of the table, facing the man who had threatened him as he stood between Athos and D'Artagnan, their pistols still ready to fire.

"I know you…" Treville mused as he studied the man's face. "…You're in the Spanish Army." Treville observed as he took in the large, coloured man and finally placed him. "This is General Tariq Alaman." He told the two Musketeers as he picked at the bunch of grapes on his table.

"Former General." He corrected. "Now persecuted by my own country." Treville once again raised his eyebrows at the man as he popped a grape into his mouth. "I have come to offer my services to France, and believe me; your King will want to see what I have brought for him."

Treville shared a look with Athos nodding for the younger man to take over.

"As intriguing as your promise is…" The Musketeer drawled, his pistol not moving an inch. "…The King will not be disturbed tonight." He told him. "You will stay here…guarded…until we escort you to the palace." D'Artagnan lowered his pistol and led the Spaniard from the room.

"You should have left hours ago." Treville sighed as he slumped back into one of the dining chairs.

"I had things to do." He told the Captain, re-holstering his pistol. "And upon leaving I found an unconscious Musketeer at the gate."

"Go home, Athos." Treville told him, his voice laced with tiredness. "You'll need to be here first thing to take the General to the palace."

"Captain." Athos nodded his goodbyes to the man and strode from the room. He watched on the balcony as D'Artagnan and another Musketeer led the General to one of their holding rooms before jogging down the stairs and making his way home.

"You're back." Anna mumbled groggily as he stepped into their room. "Did the rain get too heavy for training?" She asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up in bed.

"Yes, I told him to retire after he almost broke his foot falling in a puddle." Athos told her with a chuckle as he recalled how his and D'Artagnan's training session had ended and hung his sodden jerkin on the back of a chair.

"You work him too hard." She told him, knowing that while D'Artagnan loved spending time with his mentor, the boy was only using the training to distract himself from Constance.

"There's always room for improvement."

"Hmmm." She murmured, turning back the mattress as he extinguished the candle she had left burning for him. "Just admit you like spending time with him." She teased. "Especially as he looks up to you so much." He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder blade as he settled beside her, refraining from commenting. "You know, he's not that much younger than Thomas would've been." She yawned not seeing him tense at his brother's name. "Maybe he's good for you."

"Perhaps." He murmured, staring up at the ceiling as she rolled to snuggle beside him.

* * *

Anna tried to conceal yet another yawn, hiding under the brim of her hat as they stood in the gardens of the Louvre. She glared up at the trees as the concealed birds chirped madly, far more excited than she to see the early morning sun.

They had arrived at the Garrison as dawn broke, despite Anna's pleas to remain in the warmth of their bed, and had been surprised to see Aramis and Porthos both there before them. She had laughed as D'Artagnan poked their hunched bodies as he tried to awaken them from their naps atop the table top as Treville descended the stairs to the main grounds of the Garrison.

He had taken one look at the sleeping duo and as Anna and Athos plugged their ears ready for the Captains' preferred way of waking Musketeers, D'Artagnan all but yelped as the man fired a pistol into the air while standing beside him. The napping pair were soon out of their seats and standing beside their comrades as Treville informed them of the previous night's events.

"I hate getting up at this unearthly hour Treville!" The King voiced her own thoughts as he and his entourage descended the stone steps into the small area of the garden the Musketeers had secured. "Why do people harp on about the beauty of the sunrise? It happens every day with tedious regularity." He groaned and Anna held back a chuckle as the monarch reached them, still wearing his nightgown.

The garden was silent as they flanked the King and watched the former Spanish General reach into his pocket and appear to sprinkle something on the base of a nearby statue.

"Please move back." He gestured for them to move away from the statue. "Please, Your Majesty, back." The Musketeers frowned and Louis huffed as they moved even further away from the fuse he had laid in the gravel.

"This had better be good, Treville." The King sighed as he, Treville, Anna and Athos moved the furthest away from the fuse.

"That's barely enough powder to fire a musket." Aramis commented as he, Porthos and D'Artagnan stayed a little closer to the man.

The General crouched and with a flint, he lit the fuse. The King sighed, already bored with the show and turned his attention back to the half-eaten peach in his hand. The General jogged away from the fuse and joined the Musketeers as within seconds the spark reached the powder and as they all stood, expecting a small bang, their jaws fell as the statue was blown apart with terrific force.

Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan had their rapiers at the ready before anyone could blink as Anna and Athos pulled the King away, protecting him from any flying debris.

Anna blew a strand of hair from her eyes as the King laughed, stopping the rolling statue head with his foot. He popped the peach in his mouth and clapped wildly as the Musketeers kept their eyes on the Spaniard who also seemed a little shocked by the extent of the blast.

"A few grains of this miraculous powder could sink a galleon." He told the King as they all approached him in the centre of the space. "I am prepared to give up its formula."

"At what price?" D'Artagnan asked as the King resumed eating his peach, his eyes still bright with excitement.

"The Spanish have kidnapped my daughter." He said. "They are holding her here; in Paris…I want her back." He held out the small container of powder to the King. "Do we have a deal?"

* * *

"This paper contains the formula for the gunpowder." Tariq told them as he retrieved a small sip of paper from his wrist and handed it to the now dressed King.

"But it's in code." Louis frowned as he stared at the symbols, the ink clear in the light of the palace library.

"Help me rescue my daughter and the machine needed to decipher it is yours."

"Why are you doing this?" Rochefort asked, his scepticism obvious as he eyed the small piece of parchment.

"Spain has turned against my people; the Moors." Tariq explained. "We are exiled or murdered. I am a fugitive; a wanted man…my daughter is all I have left in the world."

"What makes you so sure she's being held here?" Rochefort once again questioned the man.

"We fled Spain together and we thought we were safe in Paris but we were followed by General Baltasar and his Spanish agents." Treville studied the man as he spoke, his grief and anger evident in his voice. "She went to the market…I haven't seen her since."

"Then she may be dead by now." Treville noted; his voice hard as he kept his eyes trained on the ex-General. He studied the man's posture as he stood beside the King and once again felt the urge to insist that at least one of his Musketeers be in the room to ensure the Spaniard was watched.

"No, she is the bait." The General returned his stare. "It is me they want, not her."

* * *

The skirts of her dress uniform swept along the polished floors of the palace as Anna strolled through the wide corridors.

It was well known that the Ambassador and his cronies weren't at all fond of a woman being issued the King's commission, never mind also being allowed to attend such important gatherings. And so, she was happy, for once, to have been excluded from negotiations with the Spanish Ambassador for the safe return of Tariq Alaman's daughter, as it awarded her the opportunity to sneak a peek at the baby she had helped to deliver not so long ago.

She rounded the corner and flashing a smile at the guard stood beside the double doors leading into the Dauphin's rooms, she entered the nursery.

"Hello darling." She cooed as she approached the cradle and let the gurgling baby grab at her fingers with a drooling grin. She glanced around the room for any signs of his governess and sighed as the woman was nowhere to be seen. "So much for leaving you in capable hands." She sighed as she lifted the boy from his cradle and rocked him.

His gentle gurgles mixed with her heeled footsteps as she walked around the nursery, gently bobbing him and pointing outside as they reached the windows overlooking the garden.

"You're late Marguerite." Anna turned as another voice filled the room.

"Good morning, Constance." She smiled at the woman as the Dauphin reached up to grab at a lone strand of her hair.

"Anna?" She frowned at the Musketeer and mirrored the woman's earlier actions of searching for the Dauphin's governess. "Where's Marguerite?"

"We don't know, do we?" She replied, her eyes never leaving the Dauphin as he played with her blonde curl. "I came in to pay this little darling a visit and there was no-one in here." Her voice was light as she spoke, her lips constantly smiling at the Prince, but Constance noted the edge to it.

Constance opened her mouth to speak just as another set of doors behind the cradle opened and Marguerite stepped through. She gently closed the door behind her, straightened her dress and jumped at the sight of two women staring at her, their eyebrows raised.

"Ah Marguerite." Anna greeted her. "How lovely of you to join us, we were just discussing the importance of not abandoning one's post."

"You know the Queen likes her son to be ready when she wakes." Constance chastised and Anna supressed a grin at how the woman had quickly adapted to her new position at court.

"The Dauphin was restless in the night." She explained quickly as she spotted the baby in Anna's arms. "I was just changing as I've been here all night and…" She trailed off as Anna adjusted her hold on the baby and placed a hand to his forehead.

"He's burning up." She told Constance as the Lady-In-Waiting joined her at the window to study the baby. She too placed a hand on his forehead and nodded grimly.

"He needs a doctor." Constance agreed as she turned to marguerite instructing her to call for the court's physician.

"And send word to Captain Treville; let him know I'll join them at the Garrison as soon as I can." She handed the baby to Constance who laid him back in his cradle. "I'm not leaving him."

* * *

"His breathing is so laboured." Anna stood behind the Queen as she observed her deteriorating son.

"He has a high fever." Lemay told them as the Dauphin was laid back in his cradle. "I propose a chemical remedy." He said as he moved to stand before the King and Queen. "The very latest cure from Geneva."

"The Swiss are a very healthy people..." Louis agreed. "…I always presumed it was the mountain air." It was obvious to all in the room that the King was simply rambling as his eyes never left the cradle which housed his now sleeping child.

D'Artagnan had spoken little of what had happened during his time in Rouen with the King, but had mentioned how much he loved his son and longed to give him the childhood that had been stolen from him.

"What does this cure contain?" Anna's heart broke as she watched the Queen attempt to show strength at this time but it was also clear how much the woman was hurting.

It was well known that the monarchs had longed for a child for many years and now he was here, surely he would not be taken from them?

"Minute quantities of various metallic elements in a suspension of water." The doctor explained, clearly very confident in his diagnosis and choice of treatment.

"But won't he throw it up?" All eyes turned to Constance as the woman spoke. "He's still on the breast."

"Professor Lemay has degrees or Geneva and the Sorbonne." The King reminded her with a sharp look that had Constance stepping back into line between Anna and Marguerite. "I suspect he knows a little more about medicine that a cloth merchant's wife!" He strode from the room as his son awoke with a cry.

"Anna." The Musketeer turned as the Queen all but whispered her name. "Stay with us." Her words were not a request but Anna knew that even if the Queen had ordered her from the Dauphin's side there was no way she'd be leaving the little boy yet.

"Of course, Your Majesty." She dropped into a curtsy and echoed the words she had said during the Dauphin's birth. "I am never far away, Your Majesty, you know that."

* * *

"I don't trust Alaman..." Porthos' voice carried through the marble corridors of the Louvre as they re-entered the palace. "…Something's wrong."

"We promised the Ambassador the cipher and we don't even have it." D'Artagnan agreed.

"Alaman swears he will produce it." Athos reminded them. "Just not yet."

"The only thing I believe is that he truly loves his daughter." Aramis sighed just as the group noticed a blonde woman all but shouting orders at a group of ladies.

"Bring hot water and clean sheets for the Dauphin. Madeline, get some towels and report to the Queen in the nursery." They nodded and began mumbling among themselves. "Quickly!" She cried, earning a few sharp glares as the women dispersed in the corridor. "And can someone please find me something more practical than this!" She gestured to the skirts of her dress and a young serving girl sprinted away to find her something.

"What's going on?" D'Artagnan reached out to Constance as she bustled past the Musketeers, heading for the frazzled blonde.

"The Dauphin is ill." She told them. "A fever." She turned to watch as the woman shouting orders was handed a plainer dress.

"I meant my uniform." She told the young girl with a sigh. "Wait, no, you don't have to…" She called after the servant as the girl once again ran to find the needed clothes. "Fine, at least you're being useful." She sighed as she spotted Constance speaking with a group of four Musketeers. "Have they given him the medicine yet?" She called across the corridor as she moved towards them.

"Lemay is still preparing it." Constance told her with a roll of her eyes. "I-"

"My Lady…" their eyes flittered to the young girl as she stood awkwardly holding Anna's uniform. "…is this better?"

"Much." Anna smiled at her as she retrieved her jerkin and trousers. "Thank you." She dismissed the girl with a wave of her hand and turned back to the group. "What's happening with Alaman?" She asked as she handed her rapier and pistol to Constance as she checked that all of her uniform was here.

"Ambassador Perales has brokered a handover with the kidnappers." Athos told her. "General Baltasar with exchange Samara for the cipher machine at the Place de L'Eglise at six."

"On market day?" She asked. "It'll be packed."

"Alaman knows Baltasar." Porthos explained. "He was his lieutenant so he'll be able to spot him easily."

"Will you be joining us?" Athos asked and she felt herself deflate slightly.

"I have to stay with the Queen." She said. "She needs me here."

"We should go." Constance interrupted, reminding Anna that she was most definitely needed here and not at the Place de L'Eglise.

"He's in good hands." D'Artagnan reminded the woman who still refused to meet his eyes.

"The physician is a very learned man." Constance agreed, as she caught Anna's eye, knowing that if she were to speak out against Lemay again she may lose her position. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"I meant your hands!" He called after as the group parted. Anna supressed a smile as Constance's eyes flickered up to D'Artagnan as he spoke and offered him a grateful grin.

"Be careful." She whispered as only she and Athos remained together in the corridor.

He offered her a smile and clapped a very quiet Aramis on the back as they left the corridor. Anna waited for the inevitable as the Musketeer turned and she nodded quickly at him before joining Constance.

"What was all that about?" Constance asked as they watched Aramis turn back to his comrades.

"Hm?" She asked, leading her back up to the Dauphin's rooms. "Aramis?" She asked. "Oh you know how protective he is, it was just his way of ensuring I'm fine with missing all the excitement with the Spanish."

She let out a silent breath as Constance nodded, accepting her reason, and the pair joined the Queen as she nursed her wailing son.

She waited until all the Ladies were busy before approaching the Queen, and with a light _"Your Majesty"_ she nodded to the slightly ajar door.

The Queen lifted her gaze from her son only slightly, but Anna watched as her eyes widened as it settled on Aramis, his face the epitome of concerned as he studied both her and his child.

"You shouldn't be here now." Anna felt the urge to kick Marguerite as the woman approached the doorway and grinned at her lover before closing them. She and the Queen exchanged a glance before the woman returned her focus to the baby in her arms.

"He's vomited up every drop so far." Anna turned as Constance and Lemay entered the room together. "Are you sure there isn't another way?" She asked as the baby was placed back into his cradle for another dose of the remedy.

"If there is no improvement we will turn to leeches." He said as he spooned a drop of the mixture into the Dauphin's mouth. "Bleeding is an infallible cure for congested lungs."

"He is so very small…" The Queen murmured as she watched her baby react to the medicine.

"And he has so little blood to spare." Constance agreed as she watched Lemay.

"I assure you, Madame, I know what I'm doing." He and Constance exchanged another fraught glance as the Queen gripped Anna's hand for comfort.

* * *

The Place de L'Eglise was still a bustling market even at six in the evening. The lighter nights were beginning to make an appearance over Paris and its citizens were taking every opportunity to buy and sell in the small market place.

Aramis kept a watchful eye over the entire area from a small window high above the market. He watched, musket ready, as Athos and D'Artagnan strolled through the stalls appearing to make light conversation but instead keeping their eyes peeled for any of Baltasar's men.

He eyed the fruit stall they stopped at and sighed as they were offered the best of this season's cherry crop. Being the best shot in the regiment, while an honour, often had its downsides. For instance, he was stuck high above the market, desperately trying to keep himself loose to avoid cramping at the wrong moment, while his brothers were below, feasting on the treats offered to two seemingly off-duty Musketeers.

He glanced to the stone archway marking one of the entrances to the market and surreptitiously titled his hat, notifying Athos that Alaman and Porthos were on the move.

His hand twitched, preparing to take up the musket as a blonde man strolled through the square, flanked by one man and woman whom Aramis presumed to be Samara, and headed for Alaman; his eyes not straying from the box under the ex-General's arm.

His actions were quick as the two parties met in the centre of the square and without blinking, the musket was in his hand and aimed directly for Baltasar's chest; a fatal shot. An almost silent crackle filled the air as the fuse's flame fizzled towards the gunpowder, waiting to be fired. His fingers danged on the trigger as he prepared his shot but felt his senses pulled by something different. He glanced away quickly as a baby's cries filled the square.

Instantly, his attention had shifted from the exchange and he watched a young mother desperately try to calm her screaming child. He felt his heart clench as the baby's cries continued, its face scrunching in discomfort as the mother cooed at it and rocked it, all to no avail. His thoughts flickered back to that morning, when Anna had all but encouraged him to watch through that crack in the door. He knew that the image would never leave him; his son on the verge of screaming and the Queen…his Queen…Anne rocking him and humming to him as Ladies rushed around.

He couldn't help himself as he pictured what could have been, if she were not the Queen and he were not a loyal Musketeer. Perhaps they would have been a family. He could see it; coming home to his beautiful wife and child and regaling them with stories of his exploits in the Garrison. They would have everyone over one a week, perhaps a Sunday, and together they would feast and laugh and be happy…one giant family consisting of his brothers and his love.

Eventually, the child quieted and Aramis shook his head to clear the images from his mind and re-focus on the task at hand. He cursed as he realised that he had missed his opportunity to take out Baltasar as Alaman and Porthos now stood blocking the man. He was forced to watch as Baltasar opened the box and instead of finding the desired cipher, he shook out a pile of dirt and twigs.

He took a breath as the box was thrown back to Alaman and the market quickly descended into chaos as the Musketeers engaged the Spaniards. Shots flew through the space and his musket whisked from side-to-side, desperately trying to find a shot, to help his brothers, but none came and he watched the civilians and merchants drop as they stumbled into lines of fire.

His eyes were everywhere as he watched the movements of his comrades and soon he spotted an opportunity to contribute to the bloodbath. All thoughts were lost as he took fire and one by one, the Spanish dropped and the remaining men searched the skies for him; their attacker perched high above.

Gunshots mixed with another sound as crossbow bolts flew through the air. Aramis once again cursed as he saw the small arrows fling through the air and embedding themselves into anyone and everything. Guns were his preferred choice of weapon but he knew all too well the damage one of those bots could do and the pain they caused when not removed properly.

Without thinking he turned and fired one shot to the man wielding the small crossbow and felt a smug grin fall over his lips as he fell to the ground with a thud. He reached for the small pouch of gunpowder always at his waist and refilled the musket, completely missing the man's final shot as he hit the floor. His gaze returned to the scene below and he felt the air leave his chest as his eyes landed on the Porthos as he fell to the hay-covered ground, a small bolt protruding from his thigh.

He fought the urge to call out to his brother, knowing that it would give away his advantageous position and as he resumed shooting, his eyes flickered back to the groaning Musketeer every other shot as Porthos tried to drag himself away.

He breathed a sigh of relief as Porthos obviously decided to ignore his injury and tackled a man to the floor – nothing could keep that man down for long, and Aramis allowed himself to move his aim from his friend and instead try to protect all of the Musketeers as well.

The market collapsed around them as stalls fell to pieces and wares were either shattered or shot. Aramis tried to not dwell on the amount of casualties lining the floor of the square and instead focused on eliminating the remaining threat.

Eventually, as the clanging of rapiers and the shots of pistols died down, Aramis stepped away from the window ledge, knowing his job was almost done. He stopped to refill the weapon just once more and as he surveyed the scene he knew that no more aerial shots were needed as Athos and D'Artagnan disposed of the only two men left standing. His eyes flickered around the destroyed stalls as he tried to discern the status of their injured comrade.

He supressed a sigh as he thought about removing the bolt from Porthos' leg later – it was well known the bug man was an awful patient. The burly Musketeer would always be the first one to run into a fight and would happily face a group of Red Guards with only a fork as his weapon, but once injured, the man was a mess; he was testy and grumpy and a complete baby, unable to receive medical attention unless sedated via Athos' fist.

He frowned as he was unable to find Porthos among the wreckage below and instead turned his attention back to the archway he had entered the square through.

He felt the musket slip from his grip as he saw not the groaning form of his best friend, but two tracks in the dirt that very closely resembled the boots of a Musketeer as he was dragged away.

* * *

Rain once again filled the air as the Captain and his regiment of Musketeers assisted in the clean-up of the Place de L'Eglise. Men surrounded Aramis, their conversation light as they attempted to rebuild stalls and clear bodies to one side of the market. He watched as men, women and children were carried away and draped in white sheets and felt his fists curl in anger.

It was all his fault! If he hadn't allowed himself to be distracted by that wailing child and then indulge in some far-fetched fantasies of a life he could never have, there would be significantly less civilian casualty and perhaps his best friend would be with them now, complaining about his leg but still insisting on helping rebuild the market.

He uncurled his wrists and plucking a roll of bandages from a forgotten stall, he moved to try and at least be a little useful.

"What happened?" Athos' voice was low as he stood beside the man Aramis was tending to. He said nothing as he tied the bandage around his upper arm and nodded for the man to go. "Aramis?"

"Tariq was in my line of fire." He told him. "There was nothing I could do." He looked away from the man he considered to be the leader of their small group and with a sigh, moved on to help treat as many people as he could, all while praying to God that Porthos was all right.

* * *

The nursery was silent as the King and Queen anxiously watched Lemay once again check the Dauphin's temperature. Anna rocked on her heels as she watched the man sigh and re-check everything before addressing the royal couple.

"Sadly, there has been less improvement that I had hoped."

"This is the future King of France." Anna sucked in a breath as Louis' eyes narrowed and his voice rose. "His destiny is not to die in his cradle, forgotten by history! It is to lead this country to greatness!" He took a breath and glanced his son before returning his stare to the doctor. "Save him…" He told him, his voice now low and threatening. "…or lose your head. And believe me; there is no cure for that."

Anna felt herself automatically bow as the King stalked past her and out of the nursery, the doors slamming behind him. The room was once again silent as they listened to the King scream at his waiting council beyond the doors.

"Some things are beyond even a physician's powers." Lemay quickly added as the Queen turned from the doors and took a breath. "I am not God." She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them and watching her son anxiously. "He must be bled: it is the only course."

"But won't that only weaken him?" Constance asked as she and Marguerite watched over the baby. "I'm sorry…" She sighed, knowing she had spoken out of turn again. "…I'm sure you know best."

"I will apply the leeches." Anna sneered at the jar of murky water as it sat beside Lemay's things. The wriggling black water worms made her stomach turn and she knew the Queen felt the same as the woman let out a sob and fled from the room.

"Stay with him." Anna told Constance and Marguerite as she followed the Queen out of the nursery.

"Your Majesty…" She stopped just outside the corridor the Queen had turned onto and waited as Rochefort called out to the crying woman. "…I couldn't help but overhear…" He told her as they stood at opposite ends of the panelled hallway. "…if there's anything I can do-"

"Pray for him." She told him with a sob. "You must be brave for I lack the strength." Her voice was watery as she spoke. "If he dies…"

"Remember how you cried all those years ago, when you left Spain for your marriage?" He interrupted her, his heeled booted echoing off the wooden floors as he slowly approached her.

"I thought I would drown in tears."

"But you didn't." Anna peeked around the corner to watch them. "You were strong and you survived." She felt her eyebrow raise as he moved so close to her that he needed only to whisper. "I was at your side then and I am here now." He reached out for her hand and pressed a kiss to it as she sniffled. "I will sit with you, if you wish."

"Please." She removed her hand and tried to compose herself. "Would you please call for Anna? She is so devoted to the Dauphin and has been so good to me."

"I am here, Your Majesty." Anna called out as she stepped out from her hiding place and into the corridor. "I am always here." She smiled, but her eyes were not on the Queen and instead were boring into Rochefort's own.

* * *

"You never had any intention of handing over the cipher!" The Captain was furious as he spoke to Alaman.

"That is true." The Spaniard sighed as he sat behind a small table in one of the Garrison's many rooms. "But I had my reasons."

"Five innocent people dead…" Aramis flung his hat to the floor as he watched Alaman's lack of concern for the people involved in this. "…a Musketeer held hostage." He flipped the table Alaman was sat at as his fury leaked out of him.

He knew that he was mostly angry at himself but as the Spaniard all but shrugged at the consequences of his actions, he felt his blood boil.

"And you still think you have a winning hand?!" He reached out and yanked the man upright by his collar before Treville pushed his hands away and forced him back into the chair.

"I was once a man of status." Tariq bit out. "A respected figure." He shook his head in despair. "And now? Now I am hounded by my own country! Believe me; I have no hand to play."

"Then why gamble with your daughter's life?" Athos' voice was steady as he slouched at the back of the room, Alaman's back to him.

Aramis often envied how easily Athos could remove emotion from a situation and today he felt that even more as the man seemed unconcerned with Porthos' whereabouts. He had once asked him how he did it, desperate to feel nothing when he stood guard at the Louvre during the Queen's pregnancy and all Athos had said was that feeling nothing, and appearing to feel nothing were greatly different things.

Aramis wished he could mirror his actions and bottle it all up; be the stoic Musketeer, but he had also seen Athos' mask slip, especially when Anna was concerned, and he knew that emotion was often the only thing that kept them going.

"Because I had no choice!" Alaman exclaimed. "Because…I do not have the cipher." They all stared at the man in disbelief. "Samara does." Treville let out a groan and walked away from the man as he apologised. "I am sorry that I put your friend in danger…I didn't do it lightly." He promised. "Now I humbly beg for your help; I don't know where they've taken Samara, help me find her and I will give you what you want – the cipher and with it, the formula for the gunpowder."

"There's one sure way to find her." Athos sighed as he stood upright and strolled to stand beside Aramis and the silent D'Artagnan. "We do exactly what the Spanish want…we hand you over."

* * *

Rochefort and Anna stood together at the open doorway leading into the Queen's private chambers. They watched silently as the woman paced the room and Anna noted, rather glumly, that the last time she had been in the Queen's bedchamber was for the Dauphin's birth and now perhaps for the notice for the little boy's death.

"I keep thinking to myself…what if he dies?" She asked as she stopped pacing. "What do I have left?"

"There is still the King." Rochefort reminded her.

"He will blame me." She told them. "I know it."

"Blame you?" Anna asked. "Why?"

"I am Spanish...so everything must be my fault." She said bitterly. "Even my son's fever." She breathed deeply. "That was indiscreet." She whispered, her eyes now scanning their faces for any signs of betrayal.

"Say whatever you wish." Rochefort told her with a comforting smile. "Your secrets are safe here." Anna also offered her a smile and the Queen sank onto the small bench seat at the foot of her bed.

"Sit with me." Rochefort and Anna shot each other a confused look and the Queen laughed lightly. "I'm speaking to both of you."

She patted the spaces either side of her and the pair slowly moved to sit, the tips of their rapiers resting on the floor as they sat, both in uniform, with the Queen in the middle.

"I have had so few friends in this place." She said quietly. "I'm glad you're both here; you're so good to me and I know…" She took their hands in each of her own. "…that if anything were to happen, you would both be there for me." Her gaze remained on their hands as Anna and Rochefort eyed each other carefully.

* * *

The opulence of the palace would never cease to amaze Aramis. He could wander the endless hallways for hours and get lost in the portrait gallery, but now that he Louvre housed a treasure more precious than anything Aramis could imagine, he was even more in love with the building.

That being said, as he and Athos led Alaman into the library to face the King, Treville and Ambassador Perales, he was honestly very tired of the dramatic meetings that always occurred here.

"In return for Samara and our Musketeer, France will hand over Tariq Alaman." Athos proposed to the Ambassador.

"And the cipher?"

"That's between you and him." Treville told Perales. "France has no further interest."

"I find that news surprising and unlikely." The Ambassador studied both the Musketeers and the King with narrowed eyes before Louis joined the conversation.

"French lives have been lost, Perales." He reminded the man. "Enough is enough!"

"Then I accept." Aramis watched the smug grin make its way onto the Ambassador's lips as he addressed the King. "Your Majesty has shown great wisdom and discretion."

"Do this, and you will never lay your hands on the cipher." All eyes turned to Alaman as he delivered his line perfectly.

"The fact is, Alaman, you have become an embarrassment…the quicker you are gone, the better." The King told him. "The same with your agents, Perales." He turned back to the Ambassador. "I want no more massacres!"

"There will be no unauthorised Spanish presence in Paris beyond tomorrow morning." Perales promised. "Your Musketeer will be released at the same time, you have my word." He gestured for his guard to join them. "Bind his hands and guard this traitor; we will move him under the cover of night."

Aramis felt himself bristle at the word _traitor_. It was one that had filled his mind for weeks after the Queen announced her pregnancy. _Traitor._ He watched as Alaman was led from the room and knew that if his own indiscretions came to light, he would not be treated nearly as well.

He studied the King as he conversed quietly with Treville, the man showed no signs of the turmoil the household were going through and Aramis hoped that it meant the Dauphin was well.

* * *

The sky was dusky as Anna made her way to the west wing of the palace and stopped as she reached her window. The hallway was silent as she looked down over the empty courtyard and hoped to God that Constance knew what she was doing.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp." She felt her spine stiffen as Rochefort addressed her. "You are not with the Queen." He observed as he approached her, eyeing her unusual placing beside a window.

"She is sleeping." She told him, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling inside her. "I had Lemay make her something to aid her, she needs to rest."

"Ah." He mused, his eyes still flickering over her shoulder to peer out of the window. "What are you-"

"How much do you love the Queen, Rochefort?" She asked quickly, stepping out into the corridor to face him.

"I have dedicated my life to the service of France and subsequently the Royal Family." He reminded her with a frown. "I am **devoted** to the Queen and the King." She nodded and took a step closer to him, somehow forcing him to turn, his back against the window.

"Good." She smiled. "Because I'd hate for someone to perceive your actions as…improper."

"Improper?" He scowled at her and she knew she had him.

"Casually taking her Majesty's hands…sitting in her bedchamber with no Ladies there to keep an eye on her…some may say that you-"

"Enough." He spat. "You have nothing on me." He moved so they were but a breath apart. "I am the one in control here, and don't you forget it." He pushed past her and stalked down the hallway away from her and her window.

She let out a deep breath and fell against the glass panes, a shaky smile on her lips as she saw Constance's cloak slip through the palace gates and into the streets. Perfect.

* * *

The palace was illuminated with candle light as Alaman was marched through the halls and out to a waiting carriage.

"I will take him from here." Navas, Ambassador Perales' guard told Aramis and Athos as Tariq was smuggled into the coach.

They stood back as the carriage's horses were spurred onwards and it began to move away from them, rocking on the palaces cobbled courtyard.

Their eyes followed the carriage to the gates and as it stopped to be let through, a lone figure in a raggedy cloak appeared from nowhere and ran at the carriage, slipping onto the back ledge just as it began to roll again and disappeared from view.

It was all down to D'Artagnan now.

* * *

"You are the Dauphin's governess!" Rochefort's rage was uncontrollable as he paced the nursery. "How could you let this happen?!"

"What's going on?" Anna asked as she strode into the room, hand on her rapier and sharp glint in her eyes.

"The Dauphin is missing." Rochefort spat, his eyes never leaving Marguerite's cowed form.

"I was so tired…I must…I must have fallen asleep."

"Who would steal an innocent child?" The Queen whispered and Anna moved through the room to stand with her beside the empty cradle.

"Where is Madame Bonacieux?" Rochefort asked as he scanned the gathered Ladies-In-Waiting.

"Constance?" The Queen grasped at the discard blankets and held them to her chest. "She wouldn't do this."

"She was concerned with the doctor's treatments perhaps…" Marguerite stopped trying to shift the blame when she noticed Anna's glare. "…perhaps she was trying to help?"

"She might be a madwoman, for all we know." Rochefort sighed dramatically before rounding on Marguerite once more. "But you are as much to blame as she is…arrest her."

"What?" The governess exclaimed as two Red Guards appeared at her sides. "No! Please!" They grasped her arms and began leading her from the room. "Your Majesty!" She continued shouting even as the doors closed behind her.

"Find my child!" The Queen's voice was heavy. "For pity's sake, find him!" She took a breath. "Dear God…someone must inform the King…" She and Anna exchanged a sad look before she followed the Queen from the room and towards the King's rooms.

* * *

The doors to the King's dining room opened with a flourish and Anna followed behind the Queen, Rochefort beside her. They entered the room slowly, the myriad of heels echoing as the trio stopped just in the doorway. The Queen frowned when her husband was nowhere to be seen but as Rochefort cleared her throat and nodded towards the table cloth edges, the Queen paled.

The King crawled out from the grand table, his face a mixture of surprise and anger.

"Get. Out." He ordered as he climbed to his feet. Anna made to join Rochefort as he exited the room with her Ladies but a sharp grasp on her hand pulled her back to the Queen's side.

"Your Majesty, I do not think-" She whispered but was cut off with as the Queen spoke.

"I came with news of your son." His whole demeanour changed at the words and Anna shuffled awkwardly to stand just behind the Queen as sign of respect but knew that the King wasn't happy with her presence.

"Not dead, surely…"

"He has been kidnapped." Anna did not see the King's reaction to this news; she was instead focused on the woman crawling out from the table. She felt her jaw slacken as she turned her head and grinned at Anna.

"You." Anna whispered furiously as Milady smirked up at her.

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped as the Queen took in the sight of her husband in his underclothes and the scantily dressed woman standing beside him, and turned, leaving the room with a flourish.

* * *

Aramis and Athos found D'Artagnan the perched in mud and peering around a gate. He stood as their guide approached him and thanked him with a purse of coins before turning to the pair.

"Middle door." He gestured to the building opposite the gates. "No-one's moved since they arrived."

"Any sign of Porthos?" Aramis asked as he joined D'Artagnan in peeking around the gate. The Gascon shook his head sadly.

"It's been hours." Athos commented. "Alaman may be dead by now."

"No, they want to put him on trial; make a show of the traitor's downfall." Aramis sighed as he surveyed the building hoping to find a weak spot in their defences.

"He knew the risks." D'Artagnan reminded them both, his voice a little harder than Aramis was expecting.

"Treville is on the way." Athos cut across any response Aramis could have given and the three resolved to wait for their Captain, knowing he would want to be a part of the rescue and subsequent arrests.

* * *

They were still loitering by the gates to the estate when a carriage rolled past them and stopped right outside the door D'Artagnan had earlier pointed out.

"Perales." Athos identified the man exiting the carriage and entering the building.

"Do we wait for Treville?" D'Artagnan asked as Athos and Aramis readied their pistols.

"Not if we want the General alive and in French hands."

The men quickly glanced into the small courtyard beyond the gates and crept as quickly as they could towards the doors.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope they're open." Aramis joked as D'Artagnan tried the handle and found them locked. He re-holstered his pistol, took a small step back and launched his foot into the wood. "And again." Aramis coaxed the young lad who kept kicking at the door. "Once more." He smirked, pistol at the ready and as predicted, with a final kick the doors flew open.

D'Artagnan stumbled into the entrance hall of the house just as a flurry of musket-balls came at them accompanied by three Spanish guards.

The three Musketeers quickly engaged their attackers and with a mix of pistols and daggers they overcame the Spaniards and bounded up the staircase leading to the central room of the house.

"One more step and I shoot her." They formed a line across the staircase entrance, pistols in their outstretched hands and pauldrons proudly showing their allegiance as Baltasar pointed his own pistol at Samara.

"This man is under protection of the Spanish crown." Perales shrieked as Porthos limped from the shadows, his own pistol hanging from his hand and joined the barricade of Musketeers. "Once again, you Musketeers have lied about your true intentions."

"It was the only way to find out where you were holding the hostages." Athos explained.

"I suggest you leave." Perales stalked across the room to stand before the table Alaman was sat at and face the Musketeers. "Unless you intend to shoot me as well."

"We'll leave." Athos told him and the Ambassador smiled. "But we're taking General Alaman and his daughter with us." The Ambassador's smile fell and Baltasar reached across the table for a small white book. "And the cipher." Athos added as he realised exactly what the book contained.

Silence fell over the room as Perales glared at Baltasar for making it so obvious.

"I will return to Spain of my own free will and explain how the cipher works…" Alaman spoke up. "…but only if you release my daughter."

"General Alaman and the cipher will stay here…the girl can leave." Perales smirked as Alaman basically agreed to his every whim. "King Louis wishes to avid a public embarrassment, does he not?"

"I won't go without my father." Samara insisted.

"You must go." Alaman turned to the girl. "As long as you are free, I will always be at your side." He assured her and the girl sidestepped the pistol at her head and moved to embrace him. "Samara, listen to me; the world that we knew is dead…you have to build a new one where our people can live in dignity and with peace. That is your task now." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Now go."

"Get the girl to safety." Athos instructed D'Artagnan. He remained at the top of the stairs until all of his men and Samara were safe. "We withdraw…for now."

* * *

Anna realised that she and Rochefort were an imposing sight as they strode through the Paris streets when a young boy burst into uncontrollable tears as they passed.

It pained her to join the vile man on his man-hunt for Constance and the baby she had helped smuggle out of the palace last night, but, she knew she had to be there to avoid any suspicion…and make sure Constance wasn't too manhandled when they discovered her.

"Where is she?" Rochefort demanded as they entered the small warren of houses where the Bonacieux's resided. "Your wife?" He clarified as Bonacieux was dragged from the house and forced to face them.

"I…I have no idea."

"She has abducted the Dauphin." Rochefort spat at the shaking man. "And anyone involved in the conspiracy will join her…on the gallows." Anna rolled her eyes at Rochefort's scare tactics and pushed him aside.

"Where is she, Bonacieux?" She asked the man.

"I told you! I don't know!" He exclaimed as Rochefort directed his men to fan out and search for the woman. "Is this the company you know keep?" Bonacieux sneered when he was sure Rochefort was out of earshot. "Got bored of the Musketeers and moved on to warm someone else's bed?"

She let out a humourless laugh at his words before raising her fist and punching him square on the nose.

"Let's move on." She called out to the guards and strolled from the wailing man and his bloody nose.

* * *

Anna wasn't sure exactly how Rochefort knew Constance was at the wash-house. She assumed some busy-body neighbour had seen her last night and reported it to the Comte. She instantly felt her skin break out into a seat as they entered the humid building and popped open a few buttons on her jerkin as the steam swirled around them.

"Where is she?" Rochefort once again demanded as they made their way through the labyrinth of baths and piles of laundry. "Where are you?" He called out; obviously hoping a lighter voice would entice her from her hiding spot.

He stopped to question on of the woman and Anna carefully made her way to the back of the room, towards a small area cordoned off by racks of drying sheets.

A small gurgle caught her attention and she heard Rochefort let out a light _Aha_ at the sound. She pressed herself to more faster to ensure she got there first and as she entered the area, Constance peered up at her.

"I'm so sorry for what's about to happen." Anna whispered as she scooped the baby up. "But you have to know that I-"

"Have you hurt him?" Rochefort demanded as he too entered the space.

"I'm trying to save his life!" He ignored her as he checked the baby as he rested happily in Anna's arms. He laid a hand on his forehead and frowned at its cooler temperature. "See?" Constance pressed.

"Hmm." He mused and stepped away from Anna. He nodded lightly and Constance let out a relieved breath hoping she would be let off the hook. "Still…" He backhanded her across the face before grabbing her cloak and dragging her close to him. "…the penalty for kidnapping the Dauphin is **execution** …nothing can save you." He threw her to the waiting Guards and turned back to Anna as she tried to not too show any emotion for the slap and focused on trying to settle the child. "Hurry to the Queen; tell her I found her child."

" **You** found him?" Anna asked in disbelief. "Just you?" He ignored her. "Unbelievable."

She huffed over Rochefort's arrogance all the way back to the palace as the Dauphin snuggled into her hold and happily gurgled in her arms.

"You and I are spending a lot of time together, huh?" She smiled down at the baby as the group, including Constance, followed Rochefort and passed through the palace gates. "I know your mummy is going to be so pleased to see you." She gently pushed the blankets aside to show more of his face and big eyes. "She's going to whisk you out my arms and never let you go." She told him as they arrived at the grand staircase leading up to the council chambers and private wings.

She continued making faces at the baby as the group climbed the stairs and stopped only when her path crossed with someone descending.

"Apologies, I-" She stopped when she lifted her eyes and once again came face to face with Milady.

"Don't worry about it." She smirked and slipped past her. Anna felt her jaw tense as the woman happily skipped down the staircase before disappearing into the courtyard.

"Come, Mademoiselle." Rochefort called to her and as she looked back up to the top of the stairs she knew that the expression of shock and hatred on Constance's face matched her own perfectly. "We mustn't keep their Majesty's waiting."

* * *

"Surround the building!" Treville shouted to his Musketeers when he eventually arrived at the Spanish safe-house.

"The cipher's inside, Baltasar's holding it." Aramis told the captain as twenty men strode onto the estate and fanned out, filling the area with some perched in windows directly opposite the house, waiting to take a shot. "That's the room; those three windows." He gestured to the first floor windows overlooking the courtyard and the assembled Musketeers. "Just Tariq and the Spanish in there."

There was no movement as the men took up their weapons and waited for any sign of the hostage being released peacefully. All eyes moved to the doorway as it opened and Navas strolled out.

"Any assault on Spanish citizens will provoke a diplomatic incident, Captain." He spoke calmly, ignoring the numerous guns pointed toward him. "Is that what you want?"

"What I want is the cipher."

"Then I suggest we have a stalemate." He took another step towards the Musketeers.

"Prepare to enter the building." Treville instructed his men, halting Navas' steps.

"Please…" Samara ran to Treville's side. "…my father is in there."

"I warn you; if you lay hands on a Spanish citizen, there will be dangerous consequences." Navas strode to stand in front of Treville as the Captain studied Samara and her plea for her father's safety.

He turned his attention back to Perales' guard and stared at the man, an eyebrow raised and his eyes menacing. Hoping to force him to back down by simply showing him the resources he had at his disposal, he gestured for the men to ready their weapons and in seconds, clicking filled the air as hammers were pulled back and targets found.

The courtyard fell silent one more as Navas' gaze flickered to each and every stoic Musketeer but, as he opened his mouth to speak, a gunshot rang from inside the house.

"Father!" Samara wailed. "Father!" She made to run to the building but was pulled back by Aramis just as an explosion erupted from the first floor.

Fire careened through the windows, the sheer force of the reaction propelling all the Musketeers back as glass shattered all around them. Some managed to run for cover but within seconds, most were lying on the ground, covered in soot and unmoving.

Treville pushed himself to his feet as Porthos lunged for Samara as the girl began picking through the debris all around them, searching for her lost father.

Athos and Aramis exchanged glances as they studied the remnants of the house they had stood in only an hour ago; nothing remained. The bricks holding it together had flown across the estate and were now blackened rubble.

"Father…" Samara's cries turned to a whimper as Porthos held her, the burly man still limping slightly but not letting her go.

* * *

The court had assembled in the Queen's private chambers as soon as word of Anna and Rochefort's return had reached the monarchs.

As predicted, the Queen had raced to her upon arrival and she quickly laid the Dauphin in his mother's arms as the King called for Lemay.

"What possessed you, Constance?!" The Queen turned on the woman the second the Dauphin was out of her hold and with Lemay. Her eyes burned as she studied the woman held by two Red Guards. "Do you hate me so much?"

"I was trying to save his life!"

"By taking him from his doctor's care to a common laundry?!" The King spat. "Who knows what risks he was exposed to?!"

"He was dying!" Constance cried. "I thought the steam might ease his lungs; it's a common remedy amongst the people." She explained to the Queen, hoping the woman would understand her motivations.

"Common people are full of **disease**." Louis bit out as he thought of his son lying in some dingy building.

"Doctor Lemay's treatments weren't working." Constance reminded them. "I thought I-"

"This woman is dangerous." Louis cut across her with a snarl. "She must be hanged."

"Your Majesty I believe Madame Bonacieux's intentions were not…" Anna trailed off as Louis fixed her a glare and Constance was dragged from the centre of the room; crying out for her Majesty to try to understand.

"The Dauphin's lungs are clearing." The guards stopped at the doors as Lemay re-entered, Marguerite and the Dauphin in tow. "And his fever has broken." Constance shook of her guards as she turned to watch the Queen receive her child. "I believe he is recovering."

"Your leeches have done their work?"

"As a man of science I must conclude that…it was the steam and not I that saved his life." Lemay told the King and Constance shakily made her way back to the Queen to peer at the much healthier Dauphin. "Madame Bonacieux should receive the credit."

"Ah…well then…I suppose we had better not hang her." Louis mumbled as the Queen wrapped her free arm around Constance and whispered her apologies and thanks as the woman let out a sob of relief.

"Perhaps you were right this time, Madame." Lemay conceded as she left the Queen's embrace and faced the doctor. "But I assure you; leeches are generally an infallible cure."

She smiled at his stubbornness before she was wrapped once again in an embrace, but this time not from the Queen but a very anxious female Musketeer.

"I thought I was going to have to orchestrate a jailbreak." Anna sighed as she let Constance go and wiped the tears from the brunette's eyes.

"Thank you." Constance told her as she took her hands. "For helping me get out and defending me and…" She trailed off as Anna squeezed her hands, letting her know no more words were needed.

* * *

"The Dauphin has recovered." Anna stifled a laugh as Aramis jumped at the sound of her voice. She walked out of the alcove she had been occupying in the hope this particular Musketeer would stroll past on his way to the King's meeting rooms.

"But I thought…everyone said that he was…" Anna offered a small smile to reassure him and he let out a deep sigh of relief and fell against the wall, his hands clasped in prayer as he mumbled a few words to God.

"He is safe, Aramis." She told him when he reopened his eyes. "And back in his mother's arms."

"How? What did the doctor do?"

"Oh, nothing really…just a simple cure…nothing adventurous at all."

* * *

Anna nudged Aramis as they stood waiting in the King's rooms; the Musketeer had yet to wipe the happy grin off of his face sine she told him of his son's health. He flashed her a wink before settling his features into something more appropriate for someone who lost an asset today.

"I wanted that gunpowder, Treville." The King said as he entered the chambers, Rochefort on his heels. "Now the machine is destroyed, Alaman is dead and the secret lost forever."

"But at least the Spanish do not have it either, Sire."

"Yes, that is some compensation…but I am disappointed." Louis moved to the line of Musketeers as they stood behind their Captain and studied them. "Your Musketeers have let me down again." He made his way down the line and stopped at Athos. "It keeps happening, doesn't it?" Anna watched from the corner of her eye for any response from Athos, but he simply remained staring straight ahead, trying to block out the King's negative words.

The King sighed and moved back to stand with Rochefort.

"In fact…" He began. "The only Musketeer who hasn't failed me today is dear Anna." She fell into a curtsy at his words. "She not only managed to retrieve the Dauphin, but it was done quickly and without the public knowing." He gestured for her to rise. "You and Rochefort make quite the team." He smiled and Anna forced a matching one onto her features.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She managed to say as her eyes landed on a smug Rochefort. "It is an honour to serve you."

* * *

"How much do you love the Queen, Rochefort?" Anna asked as the man in question stepped into his office and found her relaxing in his chair.

"Haven't we already had this discussion once?"

"Hmmm." She rose from the chair and fingered the documents spread across his desk. "Perhaps, but I do believe you lied to me."

"Is that so?" He asked as he took her place and fell into his chair, his feet resting comfortably on the surface of the desk.

"It is." She assured him as she leant against the wood and smiled at him. "Because you see, the benefit of spending time here is that I get to observe people that I'm otherwise unlikely to see at the Garrison." He raised an eyebrow at her cryptic words and she moved so she was stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. "I know about the prostitutes, Rochefort." She whispered into his ear. "And I know about the requests for a more…regal evening." She spun away from him as he turned sharply and tried to grab her.

She tsked his motions and strolled to the other side of the desk, hands braced on it and staring at him.

"How did you-"

"I was a spy…remember?" She rolled her eyes. "So, my dear Comte…I think we both know exactly how much you **love** the Queen." He rose from the chair and glared at her. "Looks like we both know a little bit about each other now, eh?" She laughed and pushed herself away from the desk and back to the door of the office. "I told you I'd figure you out, Rochefort…and I get the feeling that this is just the tip of your secrets."

* * *

Anna couldn't wipe the smirk off of her face for the entire journey from the palace to the Garrison; the look on Rochefort's face had been just too brilliant to anticipate. She knew from the moment she'd stepped out into that corridor and seen him so close to the Queen that there was more to that story and had soon dispatched a loyal scout to dig up some information. Naturally, the young girl Rochefort had entertained had been more than happy to fill in the blanks when a couple of coins were wafted under her nose.

"Thank you for trying to save my father." Her attention was caught by a young girl standing with Porthos at the stable entrance. The heavy Spanish accent told her all she needed to know; this girl was Samara and it seems that she and Porthos got close during their time together.

"He was a great man. A hero."

"He taught me everything; life is going to be so hard without him."

Anna loitered in the Garrison entrance and listened to the exchange, a grin still on her lips at the pair who made a rather striking couple; the huge Musketeer and the fragile Spaniard.

"I…er…I never knew my father." Porthos revealed to her.

"Not at all?"

"No, I guess he…er…abandoned us." He said with a sigh. "I don't know, I don't really remember." He shrugged. "So, Samara, no matter how much you're hurting right now, I'd rather be in your position. Now, when the grief fades, you'll still have his memory…treasure that' it's a gift."

The girl wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks before lifting onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to Porthos' cheek.

"Goodbye Porthos." She said before turning and leaving the Garrison.

Anna pushed off the wall she was leant against and strolled towards Porthos as he stared down at a small brown book in his hands.

"What've you got there?" She asked, peering at the cover. "A gift from Samara?" She asked with a wink and he rolled his eyes.

"You're getting more and more like Aramis every day." He sighed, throwing an arm around her shoulder and guiding her to their table.

"Oh honey…" She smiled up at him. "…we both know I'm much worse than Aramis." Her smile grew as his booming laugh filled the Garrison and they slid onto opposite benches around their small table. "I feel like I haven't seen you four in weeks." She sighed as Athos, Aramis and D'Artagnan joined them, jugs of wine and glasses in hand.

"Well if you will insist on spending time at the palace." Athos drawled as he slid in beside her and poured them both a drink.

"Yes, well, I get the feeling I won't be there quite as much anymore." She told them with a smirk. "The Comte de Rochefort and I have come to an…understanding, and I doubt he wants me around anymore."

"Good." Porthos drained his glass and promptly re-filled it. "Could do with something nice to look at around here."

"Are you saying that I'm not pretty enough for you Porthos?" Aramis feigned hurt.

"No-one's as pretty as Samara, eh Porthos?" Anna teased, adopting a Spanish accent as she said the girl's name.

"Shut up." He grinned behind the rim of his glass.

"Why don't you read us some poetry?" Aramis fingered the small book with a grin. "Unleash your inner romantic."

"I'll thump both of you, and I won't feel bad about it." He warned, a smile still in place on his lips.

"You wouldn't dare."


	5. Emilie

Home was not a word Anna had felt inclined to use in the past few years. Sure, Constance had made every attempt to make the small house in the centre of Paris as homely as possible, but, being separated from the man she had lived with for so long had taken its toll, especially when she had seen him at the Garrison every day seemingly unaffected by the separation.

She knew that Spain would never be somewhere she could consider home. She had missed the liveliness of the Parisian streets. Sure, the Spanish people were, on the whole, very nice and surprisingly tolerant of the King's newest 'mistress'. Despite the luxury of the Spanish palace and the friendliness of the court, she always felt her ears perk when the French Ambassador strode into the throne room with news of her country.

No, home was something that had been just a little out of reach in recent years. And so, when she found herself in the situation she was currently in; surrounded by people who could make a home anywhere simply because they were surrounded by their loved ones and fuelled by words that could rally an army from just about anything.

"I have seen the **Devil** seated on his throne in his Palace of Gold." The crowd in the clearing were entranced as their leader spoke to them as she expertly guided her horse through the masses of people. "I have witnessed the face of death and he wears a **Spanish** crown and under his crown are **horns** and under his fine robes are **bloody hooves**." Her words filled the air as the peasants stood silently, watching and listening to the red-head. "I have looked on King Philip of Spain and in his true self is the Antichrist; the **enemy of God**."

Cheers filled the clearing as she proclaimed exactly what the poorest of France needed to hear. Anna had to give it to the woman; she was either an outstanding liar who knew exactly how to play the crowd, or, she truly believed she was blessed with holy visions. She couldn't decide which was more dangerous.

"Sons and daughters of France…" She let her hand fall to one side and the peasants reached to grasp at the skin of their saviour as she passed through them. "…we must **destroy** the devil before he destroys us!" More cheers from the people surrounding her caused Anna to conceal an eye roll at their blind faith in this stranger. "With our beloved King Louis to lead us, we must march on Spain and **drag** Satan from his lair!"

"God bless you, Emilie of Duras!" Anna was nudged aside as a woman forced her way to the front of the crowd and gazed up at the 'saviour'. "You're a saint!"

"Not a saint." Emilie took her hand and squeezed. "Just an ordinary woman." Another eye roll threatened to make itself known as the girl all but crumbled at the foot of the horse, clutching the hand that had been held by Saint Emilie.

She blew a strand of hair from her face and slipped back through the crowds to the edge of the camp where she knew a certain foursome would be loitering, also watching the scene.

She reached the stone bridge that doubled as the official entrance to the camp but turned back when the crowd's cheers turned to gasps and she saw young Emilie slumped over her horse barely staying atop it as she was held on by the man, Raymond, who acted as her bodyguard.

"The Prophet is tired!" A voice rang out, attempting to calm the crowd. "She must rest." All eyes remained on Emilie as she was lifted from the pale steed and carried into the tent at the centre of the camp.

A ripple of whispers cascaded through the crowd and Anna cursed as all eyes turned to the stone bridge she was stood beside. She had hoped to escape the camp without being noticed and before the formidable foursome made an appearance.

"I'm getting the feeling we're not welcome here." Anna shoulders slumped as Porthos' distinctive gravelly voice made its way across the bridge.

She sighed and adopted the same disgruntled face as the rest of the gathered peasants and desperately tried to ignore their questioning looks as she slipped back into the crowd to watch.

"What do you want?" Raymond stepped forward and the crowd pushed against him, makeshift weapons at the ready as the Musketeers rode across the bridge to stand at the opening of the camp.

"We're here on the King's business." Aramis told him. "To see Emilie of Duras."

* * *

It was easy to see that Emilie of Duras was not of noble birth or indeed of any high ranking family. Her tent, although the biggest on the site, was filled with only necessities; pots, pans and flasks hung from the wooden beams that formed the shell of the tent while the focal point of the room was an open fire, guarded only by a thin metal cage to prevent the whole shelter from going up in flames. Bunks lined the outer of the room, close enough to the fire to gain heat from it but far enough away so the room could be spilt into eating and resting areas.

Currently, the tent was silent as the four Musketeers formed a line and faced Emilie as the girl took a seat on the only relatively ornate item in the space – a wooden throne, lined with furs, allowing the girl to look over the room with ease.

"You know it is an act of treason to raise an army without the King's authority?" Athos broke the silence once she was happily sat, hands in her lap and smiling at the men.

"I love the King." She told them as her mother, Josette, pottered around behind her. "God has told me to seek him out so he can lead his people to victory."

"We'll march on Spain and trample King Philip into the dust." Josette announced proudly as she handed her daughter a bowl of soup. "Put the bucket there, girl." The men turned at her words to see Anna push open the flaps of the tent and struggle inside, carrying a large bucket of fresh water from the river.

"How are you going to do that?" Porthos asked sarcastically as he took in the uselessness of the 'weapons' lying around the tent and trying to ignore Anna as she heaved the bucket to the what he assumed was the kitchen of the tent. "I don't see any cavalry…I don't see any artillery."

"God is worth a thousand canons." Emilie smiled as she sipped from the bowl.

"Anything else I can get you, Madame?" Anna asked, falling into a light curtsey once she had finally deposited the water.

"Can't you see we're busy?" Josette spat, gesturing to the Musketeers. "Leave us." The men watched as the muscle ticked in Anna's jaw as she clenched her mouth shut to refrain from commenting and the blonde slipped from the tent, massaging her aching shoulders.

"Did God tell you to hate the Spanish?" D'Artagnan asked as the tent flaps fell back into place and Anna's footfalls faded.

"I hate no one." Emilie assured then, springing from her seat to better speak to them. She glanced around the group of men and felt her back stiffen as she took in their disbelieving faces. "If King Philip submits, his people will be left in peace." She took a breath to steady herself as her knees buckled slightly. Passing the bowl to her mother she gripped the arms of the throne just as her eyes rolled back and her body fell backwards.

"She has the fainting sickness." Josette explained as Raymond rushed forward to catch her. "It is when God speaks to her." She said as they helped her to her bunk.

The Musketeers exchanged glances before leaving the tent and wandering back through the camp to where their horses were waiting.

"She's mad." D'Artagnan concluded as the peasants eyed them warily as they passed.

"And dangerous." Athos added, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of the fifth member of their group but not spotting even a flash of the blonde hair he knew so well.

"What do we tell the Captain?" Porthos asked as they reached their horses and mounted them. "I mean, this girl…no matter how deluded…has an army ready to fight." He gestured to the hundreds of people living in Emilie's camp.

They were quiet as they trotted away from the campsite, each of the four trying to find a way to phrase the situation so the girl didn't come off as being simply mad and not a threat.

"Well you took your time." They were pulled from their thoughts as they turned a small bend in the woodland path and happened upon a woman leaning against one of the trees along the edge of the dirt road. "Stopped for a chit-chat with the locals?"

"What are you doing here?" Porthos asked as they pulled their horses to a stop beside her. "Thought you were at the palace again."

"Treville sent me here; he wanted someone to keep an eye on Emilie before you lot turned up in uniform." She told them as she patted the neck of Aramis' horse, avoiding Porthos' suspicious gaze.

"And how is the life of a scullery maid treating you?" Athos drawled as she made her way down the line of horses.

"My shoulders are in agony." She all but pouted. "I can throw a man over my shoulder but carrying bucket after bucket of water from that dammed river?" She accepted the hand held out to her and swung up into the saddle. "It's ruined me." She sighed as Athos' arms came around her and the four horses set off again.

* * *

The ride back to Paris was uneventful as the Musketeers expertly navigated their way through the rough terrain of France's woodland. The air was filled with laughter as they took it in turns to fill her in on the goings on at the garrison over the few days she had been absent.

"Honestly though, I just feel sorry for Madame Bonacieux." Aramis sighed but the glint in his eye gave away his true feelings as D'Artagnan's cheeks turned rosy.

"Poor woman must be checking round corners making sure this one's not loitering so they can spend time together." Porthos nudged the young Gascon teasingly as his blush intensified.

"If there's one thing I know about Constance…" Anna smiled. "…it's that she can handle herself and if she didn't want you there…she'd tell you so." D'Artagnan smiled gratefully before turning to glare at the chuckling duo beside him.

"Speaking of sneaking around the palace…" D'Artagnan began, his grin growing. "…How is Marguerite, Aramis?"

"Still can't believe she fell for your lines." Porthos laughed. "Everyone knows what you're like with women."

"They have been unbearable." Athos' voice was low in her ear as they ignored the banter currently being exchanged between the three men. "I'm beginning to realise how much of a calming influence you are on them."

"Only beginning?" She laughed. "Perhaps I should spend more time away and then you can appreciate me more."

"Another day of D'Artagnan pining after his lost love and I would have shot him." She stifled another laugh at the dramatic tone of his voice.

"I missed you too."

* * *

"The mob are rampaging through Paris and murdering anyone with a Spanish name." Treville addressed the gathered Musketeers in the Garrison's eating area. "They even killed Ambassador Perales secretary."

"Not Navas?" Anna feigned sadness. "Such a nice man; so helpful." She said sarcastically.

"It's chaos." Treville told them, rubbing his temples to try and stop the oncoming headache.

"Why don't we just arrest her?" Porthos asked, shovelling his late breakfast into his mouth.

"It's not that simple." Treville told him as Anna stole a piece of toast from Athos' plate with a grin. "This Emilie has thousands of supporters…you know that; you've seen them." The Captain gestured to Anna but rolled his eyes when he found her poking her tongue out at Athos instead of paying attention. "If they march for the border…" He nudged his Lieutenant lightly, making the man focus instead of smiling at the blonde and her food stealing antics beside him. "…Spain would have a legitimate pretext for war."

"She's sick; touched in the head."

"She fainted while we were speaking to her." D'Artagnan explained Porthos' vague words as the bigger man continued to tuck into his meal. "Apparently she's being having fits since she was a child."

"And she cries out in her sleep." Anna told them, breaking the slice of toast in half and absentmindedly handing one half to Athos before taking a bite. "Nothing coherent just very loud mumbles."

"Some people would call it the sacred affliction." Aramis piped up from his spot across the room. "Perhaps she's genuinely blessed." He said, closing the notebook he had been scribbling in. "With faith, anything is possible." He reminded the room of sceptical men as he stood and moved to pour himself a drink. "You should al try reading the Bible once in a while."

"All right Aramis…" Treville smirked at the man. "…as you're the expert on God, you can deal with her." They smothered grins as Treville smirked cruelly at the Musketeer.

"I didn't become a Musketeer to destroy an honest woman's reputation." Aramis argued, hoping he could somehow wriggle out of it.

"Would you rather see he march thousands of innocent people to a Spanish slaughterhouse?"

"What does the King say about all of this?" Athos interjected. "Will he meet her?"

"The King is…busy…with affairs of state." The Captain told them ruefully before striding from the dining area.

"Affair being the right word for it." Anna threw the half eaten slice back onto Athos' plate as the image of Milady crawling out from the King's dining table resurfaced in her mind.

"Any idea how she wormed her way into the palace?" D'Artagnan asked.

"None." Athos sighed. "But I'll bet it has something to do with helping him escape from the Spanish kidnappers.

"Or she's simply slept her way to the top." Anna shrugged. "Not like it would be the first time." She pressed a quick kiss to Athos' cheek before standing from the table. "I'll be back soon." She told them before leaving the room, still clad in her dress from Emilie's camp.

"You two are getting more domesticated every day." Aramis observed with a grin as he raised his cup to his lips. The smile widened and spread to the Porthos and D'Artagnan as Athos replied with a withering stare.

* * *

"Come in, Madame." Anna followed the young girl as she led her into the small apartment overlooking one of Paris' busiest streets. "Please, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to a tiny setee beside the window and Anna hesitantly dropped onto it.

She could see why Rochefort had chosen this woman over the other, more notorious prostitutes in the area. Her blonde hair was almost the same shade as her own and more importantly, the Queen's. But the fleeting resemblance to the monarch faded when the girl opened her mouth.

"I can honestly say I've never had someone so…posh in here." The girl gushed as she took a seat opposite Anna and took in the intricate hairstyle the Musketeer had managed to organise before leaving the Garrison.

Anna smiled to the girl, very aware of the image she was projecting. While the dress she worn to Emilie's camp was by no means special, the rich colours when paired with an ornate bodice she had kept from her days at the chateau, caused her to be quite the picture. She was also very aware of how the girl was trying to emulate her perfect posture and warm smile.

"Is there anything I can get you?" She asked, nervously playing with the strings of the corset she wore that displayed her breasts proudly through the wide strings. "I've not got much but-"

"I'm here to discuss one of your…frequent…clients." Anna told her, hoping to calm the girl and stop her from leaping up to offer her something to eat.

"Oh." Her shoulders dropped and the girl relaxed. "If your husband comes here I can try and turn him away but-"

"The Comte de Rochefort." Anna interrupted her.

"He's your husband?" She blurted out in shock.

"No." Anna laughed. "Dear God, no." The girl forced a smile of relief at not having to turn away her most affluent client. "But I am intrigued about what he does when he's here."

"No offence, Miss." The girl began. "But I'd have thought it pretty obvious what he does here." She gestured to the large bed in the next room and the open corset she wore.

"Yes…" She took in the apartment; it's peeling paint unmissable when it contrasted with the rich fabrics strewn about the place. "…but I'm talking more about what he has you do."

"Come again?"

"I know about the fascination with Her Majesty." The girl fell silent and after a moment her eyes became fearful.

"He told me not to say anything. Said he'd kill me if anyone found out and-"

"Shh, shh, it's fine, it's alright." Anna calmed her babbling and patted the seat next to her. The girl eyed her carefully before slipping over to the setee. "Now…" Anna took her hand. "…the next time he comes here, I just need you to listen, listen carefully to what he says and if he starts going on about the palace…ask questions." The girl's eyes were wide as Anna smiled at her. "Send a message to the Garrison when he's gone and I'll meet you here."

"I shouldn't…he said he'd-" The girl stopped as Anna retrieved a small purse from the folds of her skirt and handed it to her.

"How about now?" The girl opened the bag and stared at the coins inside.

"The Garrison, you say?" Anna nodded. "I can do that."

* * *

The Garrison was quiet when Anna finally returned, dressed in her uniform and whistling.

"Where've you been?" Porthos asked, looking up from the pistol he was polishing.

"I needed to change out of that dress." Anna told him as she slid onto the bench at their table. "And I could still smell that camp so I took a bath." She smiled at him but it fell when she saw him frowning at her. "What's wrong?" She asked, racking her brains for something Porthos could frown at.

"Your hair…" He nodded to the intricate style she had forgotten to undo. "…it looks nice." She forced a smile as her hands scrabbled to pull out the pins holding it in place.

"Thanks." She mumbled, letting the blonde tresses fall back around her shoulders.

They fell back into silence; Anna fidgeting as her mind played over her meeting with the young prostitute while Porthos occasionally glanced up from the pistol in his hands to watch her.

"Quiet without Aramis…isn't it?" She asked after running through a list of conversation starters in her mind. She knew that the big man's best friend was safe ground and that's exactly what she needed with Porthos being more than a little bit sketchy around her lately. "When did he set off?"

"Not long ago; should be there before nightfall." He told her. "Gives him plenty of time to rehearse his story."

"Which is?"

"That he was moved by her preaching when we were there this morning and decided to desert us and follow God's plan instead." His eyes never left the pistol as he spoke and Anna felt a pit form in her stomach at his actions.

"Porthos…" She paused, hoping for him to look up. "…is there something wrong?" He finally glanced up at her and the lip she was chewing as she sat there worrying.

"I don't know." He placed the pistol onto the table and stared at her. "And that's the problem."

"I don't-"

"You're hiding something." He used the rag to wipe gunpowder from his fingertips. "And I've got a bad feeling that Rochefort's involved."

"Porth-"

"You see, it made no sense to send you to Emilie's camp." He cut across her. "Aramis knows the Bible back-to-front and inside-out so he could've easily got on her good side, and I grew up in the Court of Miracles so I know how to slip into a crowd and not be noticed." He paused. "Even D'Artagnan made more sense…but Treville sent you."

"The Cap-"

"In fact, Treville sends you undercover more than anyone." Their eyes never strayed from each other. "And then when you add in the fact that you keep disappearing and Rochefort kept summoning you to the palace for secret meetings than I don't think even the Captain knows about…" He watched her pale. "…then yeah, I'm a little suspicious."

She dropped her eyes from his and turned back to chewing on her lip as she desperately tried to come up with an explanation.

"Is it Rochefort?" She let out a breath. "Has he…" He hesitated, hating that he was asking this question. "…taken a liking to you?" Her eyes shot up to his. "Because if he's using his position to-"

"God, Porthos; no." She wanted to laugh. "No, no, no." She shook her head. "I would never…I…Athos…" He nodded quickly, glad she wasn't going into any further detail. "Porthos…" She reached across the table and took his hand. "…you are such a good friend. Not just to me but…everyone." They exchanged a smile. "I wouldn't betray any of you like that…you're family."

"Right." He nodded, accepting her words. "It's just that…did I ever tell you about General de Foix?" She shook her head. "He…he and Treville know something about my father; I'm sure of it." He took his hand from her grasp and ran it down his face. "But the Captain won't say anything and-"

He paused when he felt someone take a seat beside him. He looked up and found that Anna had moved from across the table to beside him and she once again took his hand, the pair now sat close.

"You'd tell us if there was something wrong, right?"

"Right." She whispered, missing how his shoulders relaxed as she reassured him. "Of course I would."

* * *

The tavern they were in was packed to the brim and Anna glared at the already drunk patrons as they stumbled through the crowds, their drinks splashing as they hit sturdy bodies along the way.

"I hate these places." She muttered as she all but snarled at a passing drunkard. "There are too many people and it's too loud to have an actual conversation." Athos' chuckle rumbled through his chest as he tried to not draw attention to them.

"I doubt conversation is what they come here for." He laughed as his eyes landed on a group of men currently being seduced out of their wages by a group of prostitutes.

"And I couldn't come in uniform." She added, shifting in the dress she wore. "I've spent more time out of my uniform than in it lately." She sighed, missing the amused glint in Athos' eyes as she was once again jostled and pushed further into his chest.

"I wouldn't say that's a bad thing." He grinned, letting his hands encircle her waist and stroke the outline of her curves.

"If I told everyone how much of an insatiable flirt you are, I doubt they'd believe me." She mirrored his grin and leaned in to press a kiss just to the side of his lips.

"I know they wouldn't." He countered, his grip on her waist tightening. "D'Artagnan's here." He told her and moved them slightly so she could watch the young boy enter the tavern, his smile brightening when they landed on Madame Bonacieux.

"Are you waiting for me?" He grinned as he approached her and Anna smiled as the woman pursed her lips at the boy.

"No, I often hang around crowded taverns at night." She told him, her face the picture of indifference. "Never know when you might get lucky." A small smile betrayed her and the pair stood, grinning like idiots at each other.

"Told you." Anna nudged Athos as they listened in on the pair. "If she didn't like it; she wouldn't put up with him."

"Milady tricked us all. Even you lot." They tuned back into the conversation at it turned to the reason they were all there. "The Queen should know who she's dealing with."

"All our evidence died with the Cardinal." D'Artagnan reminded her as he leant against the wooden pillar they occupied. "If you went to the Queen, what would you tell her?"

"The truth."

"You know the King is besotted with Milady." He reminded her. "You might do more harm than good."

"But what if she wants to harm Her Majesty?" Anna smiled at Constance's concern for the Queen. It was nice to see her passionate about something that wasn't an affair with her lodger and as far as Anna was concerned; anything that got her away from Bonacieux was perfect.

"Why would she?" D'Artagnan asked. "She's already got what she wants." Constance nodded sadly, accepting that he was right. "Look…" She turned back to the Gascon. "…just watch Milady for now. In the end, she'll destroy herself without our help; you'll see."

They fell into silence as Constance accepted his words. Athos pressed into Anna's sides signalling for them to move on now that Constance had been quelled and her concerns noted, but Anna stopped him when the woman spoke again.

"I'm glad that we can talk like this again…you know; as friends." D'Artagnan nodded earnestly at her words, before leaning away to put some distance between them; very aware of close their lips were to each other in the packed building.

The pair shared a strained smile before Constance pushed off the pillar and through the crowds, escaping into the cool night air.

There was silence as they watched D'Artagnan hang his head before also pushing off the pillar. He scanned the crowd for a second before his eyes landed on them. He let out a sigh as Anna timidly waved to him before calling him over.

"You…ah…you heard all that?" He asked as he reached the pillar they stood at.

"Mmm." Athos gave a nod and D'Artagnan sighed.

"What are you going to do?" He asked and the couple shared a look before Athos answered.

"We're going to drink."

"You should join us." Anna told him, moving away from the pillar and pointing to a newly empty table. "We can talk about Constance and your poor attempts to charm her." She laughed before twirling away from them and disappearing into the crowds as she headed for the table.

"You looked pretty cosy there." D'Artagnan observed as he and Athos moved side-by-side through the crowds. He grinned up at his mentor as he recalled how close their bodies had been as Athos' hat brim shielded them from prying eyes. "Very…intimate…" He grinned as Athos clapped a hand on his shoulder and guided him to their table, a jug of wine already waiting.

* * *

Anna awoke with a groan as the mattress beside her dipped. Rolling, she came face to face with the form of her lover as he rubbed his eyes clean of grogginess.

"How are you so awake?" She mumbled, flinging her arm over her eyes as sunlight poured into the room. "You drank twice as much as me and I can barely move." His response was a low laugh. "I'm being serious."

"I spent a long time drowning my sorrows." He told her, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek before standing to locate his trousers. "You get used to it."

"Ugh." She groaned, the mere thought of leaving this bed made her feel sick. "Remind me why we have to get up today?"

"Ambassador Perales." She let out another groan at the name.

"Can't we just let the mob get him?" She opened one eye at his lack of response and found him standing, boots in hand, with one eyebrow raised at her. "Fine, fine." She sighed, opening both eyes as he returned to the bed. Noting his still sluggish movements she grinned and leant forward, pressing small, teasing kisses along the length and width of his broad back as he pulled his boots on.

"Let's not go…" She purred softly. "We deserve a day off."

"Anna…" He groaned as she continued to taunt him with her supple lips. He turned slowly to face her. "We're going." She huffed and laid back into the mattress allowing his to get up from his seat on the edge of the bed and find a clean shirt to put on.

"You may be, but I refuse." She told him and turned her back on the sighing Musketeer.

"Anna-"

"Treville can cope if only you show up. You have no need for little old me; I'll just turn up later…" She trailed off as the bed dipped beside her and she rolled to grin into her lovers face hoping he had changed his mind.

"Get up." He whispered as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before moving away from her to continue dressing. She sighed but removed the sheet from her naked body to search for her clothes.

* * *

Anna got her wish when Treville took one look at her bloodshot eyes and the small groan she let out as she fell onto the bench at the Garrison, and declared her unfit to collect the Ambassador.

Despite the promise of a good bollocking upon their return, Anna had merely saluted as the Captain rode out with his Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan to collect and protect Ambassador Perales from the mob beating down his door.

As soon the sound of their horse's hooves left the Garrison, Anna let herself fall to the side and curled up on the bench. She was asleep within seconds and very much grateful to the Musketeer who draped a blanket over her.

* * *

It was the hand on her shoulder roughly shaking her that woke Anna. She groaned as the hand almost caused her to topple off the bench and swatting it away, she pushed herself up into a sitting position on the wood.

She let out a string of groans as she stretched before slowly blinking her eyes open and immediately shooting from her seat as they landed on the people in front of her.

"Your Maj-"

Her words were muffled as Constance pressed two fingers against Anna's lips and the blonde raised an eyebrow at the woman who frowned as she let out a string of incomprehensible sounds.

"What?" Constance asked as Anna's eyes flicked towards the fingers stopping her from speaking.

"I said…" Anna began as Constance removed her fingers. "…If you don't move them I'll bite you."

"Charming." Constance huffed as Anna winked at her before turning to the giggling Queen.

"Anne." She nodded to the woman, barely concealed in a billowing cloak. "Not that it isn't lovely to see you both…" She glanced around the Garrison before leading them to a quieter spot underneath Treville's mezzanine. "…but what are you doing here?"

"Innocent people are dying all because of that foolish peasant girl who thinks she can talk to God." The Queen declared. "I cannot stand by and watch as my fellow countrymen are slaughtered."

"I'm sure the King has it in hand." Anna bit her tongue to stop herself from adding the _My Queen_ onto the end.

"His advisors won't allow him to see her." She told the Musketeer who sighed. "They say it would only encourage her." Anna nodded in agreement. "I've tried to talk to him, many times, but what I want is of little interest…he's captivated by this _Milady._ "

Anna watched as the Queen seemed to shrink before her; gone were the layers of skirts and strings of gems that made her the monarch and now, as she stood in the muddy Garrison desperate to help, Anna knew she was seeing the true Anne.

"I'm told she knows…things…" The woman continued, her face flushing. "…bedroom tricks…" She whispered, her blush so potent Anna had to force herself to not laugh. "…I was so young when I married the King." She sighed. "We grew up more as friends than lovers."

"When you truly love someone, all the tricks in the world don't matter." Constance told her, taking her hand as Anna nodded in agreement.

"I have tried so hard to be the King's friend and support…but I know I have never pleased him."

"You're the mother of his son." Constance reminded her.

"Yes." Her eyes met Anna's. "Yes I am…and it is for the Dauphin's sake that Emilie's gospel of hatred must be challenged." Her eyes flared and as Anne thought of her son, the Queen returned; her back straightened, head lifted and the fire in eyes continued to flame. "Take us to Emilie."

* * *

The sun was high in the sky as he neared the small abbey housed on the palace grounds. Striding towards the pale stone, his mind drifted back to the many times he had made this journey all those years ago and how the man inside would not be the one he had wanted to see most upon his return to Paris.

He and the Cardinal had never had the friendliest of relationships; the older man sending out his young apprentice to avoid getting his own hands dirty and yet, Rochefort had always looked up to him.

It was the news of his death that had finally allowed him to submit to the Spanish and give himself to their cause, for, what is France without Richelieu? The man was essentially the ruler of the land while the boy who actually wore the crown spent his days shooting and frolicking with mistresses.

Mistresses. He never thought one word could ignite so much hate within himself, and yet, as he pictured his beloved Anne sat in her room alone while he ran around with whichever woman opened her legs for him first…he felt his hands curl into fists and tried to quell the thoughts as he stepped inside the cool building.

His boots signalled his arrival better than any word could ever as they echoed through the tiny chapel. The building, essentially just one large chamber, was ensconced in shadows with only the tiniest flickers of light emanating from the candles dotted throughout.

"Father Allard." The clergyman's head was already up from its prayer position and Rochefort smirked at his tense posture; the man likely cursing his luck to be here when the notorious Comte arrived. "You were privy to all of the Cardinal's secrets…" He leant against one of the room's many pillars as the man rose to face him. "…I want to know about Milady de Winter."

"You were the Cardinal's man, Rochefort…" The Comte felt his pride swell at the title. "…didn't he tell you?" The Father asked with a smirk and Rochefort felt his lips purse at the ballsy moves he was now pulling.

"Let me explain our roles here; I ask the questions and you answer them." Rochefort told him slowly, fighting to keep his tone light. "Do you understand?"

"I believe the lady in question has only lately arrived in Paris."

"Don't lie to me." Rochefort felt his calmness slip away as the clergyman blatantly lied to him and he began to pace in front of the man in an effort to keep his cool. "Her name appears in the Cardinal's private accounts. So she was either his mistress or something even more valuable…" He stopped and faced the Father. "…which was it?"

"How dare you?" He asked, outraged at the treatment he was receiving from the Comte. "Who are you to question me like this?"

"Tell me the truth and you'll be well rewarded."

"I am a man of the Church; I cannot be bribed!"

"I'm pleased to hear it." Rochefort commended him before taking a step closer to the man and letting his voice drop. "How is your new mistress, by the way?" He watched as the man nervously swallowed. "Does she know about the wife and family you keep in secret? Or the bastards you've fathered with two other women?" He fingered the bible lying open at the small alter in front of them.

"Milady was the Cardinal's agent." He told him quickly, his face pale and hands shaking. "His spy and assassin; but she's nothing more than a murdering whore."

"Better that, than a pious hypocrite."

"May I leave now?"

"Write down everything you know about her." Rochefort instructed as he snapped the Bible shut, trapping the delicate rosary inside. "If I am satisfied you are telling the truth; I might let you live."

"Truly, I know little about the woman." The Father insisted. "Only that she was his agent and has some history with the Musketeers."

"The Musketeers?" Rochefort asked, his interest piqued again.

"Two of them, not the whole regiment." He corrected. "Athos and the woman; there's a secret there somewhere and they're the ones the Cardinal handed her over to…said she was of no use to him anymore."

"Anna Beauchamp…your secrets keep growing."

* * *

Clad once again in her dress from Emilie's camp, Anna sighed as she waited at the Garrison's stables. She had led Constance and the Queen to a small room deep within the Musketeer training grounds before escaping to the Bonacieux house to steal a plain dress for the Queen.

She had sighed upon seeing Her Majesty still wearing a dress far more befitting a royal ball than a forest camp filled with peasants from every corner of Paris. Racing back to the Garrison, she had handed the blue gown to Constance before changing and moving to secure three horses from the stables.

"Going back to the camp?" She jumped as Porthos' voice sounded from behind her. Turning to face the burly man as he sat off to one side, she sighed and picked up her skirts.

"Trust me; it's not what I had planned for the day." She told him, taking a seat beside him. "What's the matter?" She nodded to the piece of paper held tightly between his hands and the frown he wore as he watched Treville and Perales converse on the Captain's balcony.

"General de Foix…" He began, handing her the letter. "…I hardly knew the man but he's left me a legacy."

"You saved his life." She reminded him as she scanned the document. "Perhaps he wanted to repay the debt."

"No one else got anything."

"That's not true." She told him. "I'm pretty sure Aramis got rope burn and D'Artagnan got a kiss from Lucie de Foix, so…" She nudged him playfully. "I wouldn't worry about it Porthos." She told the man. "Perhaps he just felt a connection with you?"

"I think he felt he owed me a debt." She frowned at his words.

"Why would you think that?"

"I think he knew something about my background…about my mother or maybe even my father."

"I think you should talk to Treville." She told him, handing him back the letter as three horses were led from the stables. "He hadn't seen the man in 20 years but if anything's being kept from you…Treville would know it."

She offered him a small smile before taking the horses and signalling for the two women in hiding to slip from the shadows and escape the Garrison while no one was paying them any attention.

"Mademoiselle." She turned as Constance and Anne slipped out of the Garrison, their horses in tow. "This was just delivered for you." She glanced down at the small ornate box suspiciously.

"Who from?" She asked the young Musketeer in training as she took it from him.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "The messenger didn't say." She nodded for him to leave and balanced it carefully as she lifted herself into her saddle.

Trotting out of the Garrison, she came to a stop beside Constance and Anne and slipped the ribbon from around the box. Lifting the lid slowly, she felt all of the air in her chest rush out and her eyes focus on the object inside.

"What is it?" Constance asked, leaning to get a look just as Anna snapped it shut.

"Nothing." She told them, willing her voice to be strong. "Let's go." She pushed her horse onwards and let the box fall into a small sewer they rode past.

She squeezed her eyes shut as a gag rose in her throat as she wondered what end the girl had faced when Rochefort had found out about their plan and hoped that the image of a prostitute's severed ear on a cushion would leave her mind by the time they reached the camp.

* * *

Rochefort knew he had timed his stroll through the palace gardens perfectly when, upon stopping in their centre, a window on the second floor of the apartments opened and a brunette leaned out obviously admiring the view.

Waving his fingertips gently to the woman, his smirk grew as hers faltered, and he thanked whoever was watching over them for this impeccable opportunity.

Holding eye contact with the woman, high up in her gilded perch, he slowly pulled an ivory envelope from his jacket and waved it to her, the silent order for her to join him in the garden obvious.

It took her mere moments after withdrawing from the window to don an overdress and meet him as he lounged under the shade of the huge white mulberry trees. He ignored her as she picked up the thin envelope he had laid out on a nearby table.

"I will not be blackmailed." Another smirk blossomed on his lips as she uttered her first words to him.

"Remarkable…" He began, tuning to her as she still scanned the document. "…that a street **slut** can bear herself with such arrogance. Did the Cardinal teach you that?"

"The Cardinal taught me a great deal…be careful I don't show you how much."

He let out a humourless laugh at her threat and finally looked fully at the form of Milady de Winter as he lay out across a cushioned bench.

"Perhaps I should give the King that list of your crimes." He nodded to the letter. "How many men did you kill, exactly? I lost count." And that was true; Rochefort had lost count once he had located the Cardinal's detailed records of the woman before him and exactly what she had done during her time in Paris.

"I am finished with that life."

"Not quite." He corrected her. "I have a job for you."

"What is it you want?" Her tone was sharp as he turned on the bench - planting his feet on the ground he took a moment to eye her; the jewels around her neck, the rich fabric decorating her body and the obviously practised posture expected of a lady of the court.

"A death."

"Whose?"

"We'll get to that."

She swallowed hard as she digested his words and with a small nod, she ripped up the document that could ruin her and agreed to his job.

"Just one." She told him, still ripping the paper into tiny, un-decipherable pieces. "And then we are free of each other."

"I give you my word." He offered her a small smile. "Just one death." He promised, patting the seat beside him.

And he meant it; the Comte de Rochefort would only be requiring one death from the infamous Milady de Winter. It would be too easy to end the life of the irritating Mademoiselle Beauchamp and so, he intended to use the assassin before him as a warning to the female Musketeer.

No, he would use Milady to scare the girl and who better to victimise than the Ambassador who kept questioning his loyalty to his mission?

* * *

"I'm not sure this is a good idea." Anna had to agree with Constance as they walked towards Emilie's camp, arm-in-arm with the Queen.

She had only once tried to persuade the woman to turn back during their journey to the camp but Constance had held strong and reminded the monarch of how dangerous this was every mile or so.

But the woman had refused to listen to her lady-in-waiting and so the three had persevered on, Anna trying to lead them through gentler patches of forest as the Queen was jostled around on her horse.

Now, only a few hours after leaving Paris, they were at the outskirts of the camp, only the small stone bridge over the thin remnants of the Seine separating them from an angry mob of France's poorest.

"If the King won't grant Emilie an audience, **I** must." Anne said slowly, watching her footing as they descended a bank. "What other choice do I have?"

"You could have stayed safe at home." Constance reminded her. "And so could I."

"I want to be useful, Constance, to show the King that there are some things only a Queen can do." Anna smiled at the fondness the women obviously had for each other and she was once again comforted by the fact that Anne was not alone in that huge palace as her husband frolicked around with Milady and Rochefort skulked around. "How do I look?" She asked as they stopped just before the bridge.

"Beautiful."

"I don't think that's what she meant, Constance." Anna laughed as she nodded her approval to the Queen and led them across the rover and into the clearing.

"I don't see any muskets or swords." Anne noted. "These are just ordinary people; I'm sure they'll listen to reason." She threw them a grin before pushing ahead and overtaking the two women as they exchanged wary looks.

"What do you want?" She was stopped as soon as she set foot into the camp. Anna exchanged another glance with Constance before jogging to stand beside the Queen as she faced a small group of men each carrying large, yet blunt, knives.

"We're looking for Emilie." Constance told them as Anna watched them try and look intimidating.

"Who wants her?"

"We-"

"Madeline Baudin." Anna cut across the Queen quickly before the woman could say anything to land them in trouble. "I help Josette." She told them. "I left yesterday to bring my friends to follow the prophet." She lied smoothly, grateful for her time spent in the camp as Raymond nodded from his spot on the wall of the bridge.

"And your friends names?"

"Constance Bonacieux."

"And I am…" Anna fought to not look back to the Queen as the woman tried to think of an alias. "…Anna Beauchamp." Anna felt her jaw clench as the Queen spat out the first name that came to mind.

"Well we can't let just anyone see Emilie." Raymond told them. "It wouldn't be safe."

"I can assure you, Monsieur…" Anna turned to stare at Raymond. "…that my friends mean no harm; they just want to meet the woman who will lead France to glory." Her stare was hard as she and Raymond eyed each other. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Josette is waiting."

She took a step forward into the camp but was stopped when Raymond opened his mouth again.

"I know you." She turned back, ready to lie again, but stopped when she saw who he was speaking to. "You're her; the Queen." Anna felt her shoulders droop as Anne's eyes widened at her recognition. "The Spanish **bitch**." He spat, rising from the wall to tower over the monarch as the people of the camp stopped to watch the scene unfold.

"I am as loyal to France as any of you." Anne told the growing crowd, stepping back as Raymond moved closer and closer to her.

"There's not a drop of French blood running in your veins." He spat, taking a step closer to the Queen.

"And there won't be in yours if you take another step." Anna's voice was low as his eyes moved to see the dagger dangling from her fingertips, her eyebrow raised as she waited for his next move. "And that goes for all of you." She fought a smirk as the shuffling off the men surrounding them halted as she pushed her cloak aside to show them the pistol tucked into her dress' belt.

"Why are you really here?"

"I told you-"

"Take them!" Raymond cut Anna off, Constance's yelp distracting her as the woman was apprehended, and he knocked the dagger from her hands, grabbing her wrists and gesturing for his men to follow suit, pushing the three towards the central tent. "Emilie will deal with you now."

* * *

Raymond announced their arrival in Emilie's tent with a dramatic flick of the entrance flaps before dragging them inside.

"A present for you, Emilie!" His grip on Anna's upper arm tightened as he all but threw her into the open space and ignored the curse she threw at him. "The Spanish Queen, herself." He grabbed Anne from her captor and presented her to the red-head as Anna wrenched herself from his hold.

"Your Majesty." Their eyes moved from the praying 'prophet' and to the lone man in the tent as he rose from the stool he had claimed.

"Aramis?" Constance's voice was full of surprise as he dropped the wood he had been whittling and met them at the entrance of the tent.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Emilie stepped forward, her eyes never leaving the frazzled Queen. After observing her for a moment, she motioned for their 'guards' to release them and step outside.

"This man is a Musketeer." Emilie gestured behind her to Aramis. "He deserted his regiment to join me…do you know each other?"

"He has been loyal in the past." Anne's voice was low as he watched Aramis and Anna seem to communicate silently before his sorrowful eyes rested back on the Queen. "I am sorry he has forgotten his duty."

"Why are you here?"

"I came here to talk to you, not only as your Queen but as a woman and a mother." Anne told her. "Do you really believe that God wants this hatred and violence? You must know that our saviour preached love and forgiveness not-"

"I don't need lectures on religion." Emilie cut across her. "My message is from God himself."

"Look into your heart-"

"YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE!" Emilie's sudden rage startled them all and in less than a second Anna had the Queen behind her as she and Constance stepped forward to protect her.

"We should cut off her head and send it to her brother as a gift." Raymond suggested, his eyes alight with joy as Anna seethed.

"Lay one finger on her and I'll-"

"It would be unwise to harm the Queen; she's your only connection to the French crown." Aramis tried to reason, his voice quick as he too stepped forward to assist Anna if necessary.

"For a deserter you show a high degree of devotion to the Queen." Emilie turned to the undercover Musketeer as he and Anna glared at the over-eager Raymond. "Would you defend me with such passion?!" She asked, watching Aramis carefully as he eventually tore his eyes from Raymond and faced her. "And you…" She turned to Anna. "…you served me. You pledged devotion to me and our sacred cause!"

Anna stared at the prophet and her thug, her eyes dark and her posture still defensive as she blocked the Queen.

"Your sacred cause will lead to the slaughter of thousands." Anna spat. "You are naïve to think you and a rag-tag army of starving peasants could take on Spain." Her eyes flickered back to Raymond. "If you so much as breathe on Her Majesty I will personally disembowel you."

"We should hang them…" Josette spoke up from the opposite side of the tent. "…especially her, the imposter…" She pointed to Anna. "…hang them in the morning, in front of the whole host."

"Do you really think the King will tolerate any barbarity towards his Queen?" Anne asked in disbelief.

"He'll be free to marry an honest **French** woman." Josette reasoned, seeming very at home in Emilie's makeshift throne. "He'll thank us for it."

"That's madness." Aramis spoke up again. "He'd send the Red Guard to slaughter us all."

"Abraham was willing to sacrifice his son for God." Anna felt her eyes roll as Josette piped up again and hoped that her daughter had more sense. "The King should do likewise with his wife; it will inspire his people."

Anna had known how truly vile Josette was after spending day after day running around for the woman; lugging buckets from the river, preparing the vegetables for her daughter's favourite broth (but never being allowed to prepare it), stoking the tent's fire and washing their clothes…and with no thanks. But now, listening to her try to persuade her daughter to execute the Queen and her lady-in-waiting, Anna knew this woman deserved a good slap.

"God will show me what to do." Emilie announced after a moment of deliberation. "Until then…" Anna's breath stilled as they waited for her to decide what to do with them. "…you will be our guests."

With one final look at the trio, the red-head left them, returning to her prayers.

* * *

Night fell quickly over the camp; the air in the central tent tense as Anna and Aramis tried to silently communicate with each other without revealing their shared profession and Aramis' true loyalties to the crown.

The three women had been allocated small bunks in the tent, allowing Emilie and her ever-present mother to keep an eye on them as the red-head awaited her heavenly orders.

"Here." They all looked up as Aramis approached, a small wooden bowl in hand. Glancing back to the prophet to ensure they weren't being watched too closely, he took a breath as he handed the soup over. "With respect, Your Majesty…" He began, his voice barely above a whisper. "…are you completely out of your mind?!"

"I thought I could help." Anne explained as Constance shooed Anna from her perch on the Queen's bunk so she could prepare its sheets. "That she might listen to reason."

"Faith has little to do with reason." Aramis sighed, his eyes resting on Anna as she joined them beside the bunks. "And I can't believe you brought them here."

"The Queen was very persuasive." Constance defended her friend as she moved to make the female Musketeer's bed up also.

"If Emilie foresees your death tonight…God knows how I'm going to get you out of here."

"Just cover me; I'll get them out." Anna promised

"You should try the broth." Aramis' voice rose, regaining the attention of Emilie and her mother as he played loyal follower. "It's good."

"Take mine." Emilie offered as Josette helped her from her armour. "I'm not hungry." She flicked her eyes to the bowl waiting beside her own bed for Aramis to retrieve for the women.

"Thank you." Anna murmured as she was handed the soup but passed the bowl to Constance.

"If you need me, I'll be close by." Aramis told her lowly as she nodded lightly, her gaze returning to Constance and the Queen as the women tucked into their meals.

"Aramis was right." Anna turned to the women, watching them as they sat on their respective bunks. "It's good."

She smiled lightly at Constance, envying how she always managed to find the positives of a situation, even when they were essentially captives in a mad-woman's tent being fed watery soup.

* * *

They had been trying to cool her shaking body for hours now. Wiping an exhausted hand across her brow, Anna sighed as yet another bucket load of sweat poured from Constance as she muttered incoherently in her sleep.

"We need more rags." She murmured to Aramis as she wrung out another sodden strip of material into the bucket at her feet.

The pair of musketeer's exchanged more worried glances as Aramis leant forward again to hold down Constance as she tossed around on her thin mattress, her breathing becoming more frantic and her words even more slurred.

He released her as soon as she calmed and Anna returned to mopping her brow and checking her fluctuating pulse.

"What are we going to-" Aramis was cut off as Constance's eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp.

"Constance!" Anna dragged her stool closer to the woman as she rapidly blinked and tried to calm herself. "Constance what is it? You've been crying out in your sleep and-"

"It was so real." She breathed, her eyes clearing and shaking subsiding. "It was so clear; I was there and you all were…" Her eyes widened again as she recalled the nightmares that had plagued her.

"Shhhh." Aramis soothed her as Anna placed another col rag to her forehead. "You were dreaming." He told her as Anne rushed over with clean rags.

"I've never felt anything like it before." She breathed watching the Queen take the stool at the foot of her bed, between the two Musketeers. "I was so scared."

"God granted you a prophecy." Anna's grip on Constance's hand tightened as Emilie's voice filtered over to them.

"You're wrong." Constance told her. "I hope you're wrong…because what I saw…" She trailed off, her voice falling to a whisper.

"We can't reject the truth when it is revealed."

"I'll reject what I saw for the rest of my life."

* * *

Constance had taken an age to fully calm from her nightmares. After instructing the Queen to get some rest and leaving Aramis to watch over her (with a stern look to remind him to not repeat what happened the last time he _watched over her body_ ), she had taken the woman outside and walked through the labyrinth of tents and dying embers of the fire pits until the first light of dawn filled the space.

Leading her back inside the central tent, she tried to rub away the signs of her exhaustion and instead focused on the Queen as she and Aramis sat on the edges of their abandoned bunks.

"You should rest, Anna." Anne said, rising to greet them. "You didn't sleep at all last night."

"I'm fine." She assured her, squeezing her hand in thanks as Constance took a set opposite Aramis.

"How are you feel-"

"God has shown me what to do." Emilie cut across the Queen as she strolled into the tent, flanked by her mother and Raymond. Stopping just before their bunks, she watched them carefully before speaking. "You will return to Paris' Aramis will escort you." Constance and Anne let out breaths of relief at her words but Anna and Aramis stayed tense; waiting for the other shoe to drop. "There is one condition for your release…" Here we go. "…The King must grant me an audience."

"I will do everything in my power." Anne promised earnestly.

"Tell the King we treated you fairly." Anna withheld a snort at that; they'd been confined to the tent and only allowed to leave when Constance woke from her nightmares. "He has no need to be frightened of his people." She turned and sparing Aramis a tense glance, she left the tent.

"We'll be outside." Anna told the Queen as she and Constance gathered their cloaks.

A grateful smile from the woman told her all she needed to know; the Queen was about to have a conversation with Aramis that other ears weren't to hear. A hand on the new lady-in-waiting's back, she guided her out of the tent, trying to distract her from the scene unfolding within.

"How are you feeling?" She asked the woman as they stood beside the tent's entrance.

"Much better." The brunette offered her a small smile, her eyes betraying how tired she truly was. "Thank you for…everything." Anna shrugged, trying to conceal a yawn.

"You never said what you dreamt." She noted as they watched the residents of the camp wake and begin their morning routines as the women congregated at the river bank while men stoked the dying fires.

"It was horrible." Anna turned to the woman, her voice having gone tiny as her mind rolled back to what she saw. "There was so much blood and then I saw everyone; Her Majesty dressed in black praying in her apartments, His Majesty convulsing, you being shackled and dragged from the Garrison…and an executioner's block..." She trailed off, her hands beginning to shake again. "It was so real." She whispered as Anna took her hands and squeezed hem, forcing the woman to look her in the eye.

"It was just a dream, Constance."

"What if Emilie was right?" She asked. "What if it was a message from God?"

"It wasn't." Anna told her firmly. "It was a nightmare probably brought on after all that talk of hanging us." She squeezed again hoping she was comforting her in some way. "You have nothing to worry about Constance; no one's coming to arrest me." She joked, grateful for the small smile on Constance's lips.

"You're right." She shook herself, dropping her hands and righting herself. "What's taking so long?" She asked, turning back to the entrance of the tent. "Your Majesty?"

"Constance, no." Anna tried to catch the woman as she pushed aside the tent flaps and stepped into the circular room. "Const-"

She stopped as her eyes settled on the same sight that Constance had frozen at; Queen Anne and Aramis embracing as their lips locked. Anna felt her eyes flutter close as Constance's jaw fell and the couple broke apart at the sigh the female Musketeer let out.

"Constance." The brunette shook her head wildly as the Queen approached her favourite lady-in-waiting. "Constance, please." She stopped when the woman flew from the tent, her eyes wide. "Constance!" With one final glance back at the Musketeer's she pushed aside the canvas and followed her out.

"You're an absolute idiot."

"I've missed you too."

She shot him an exasperated look as the low mumbles of the Queen and Constance filtered into the tent. Running a hand through her unruly hair, she halted when her eyes landed on the half-consumed bowl of soup at the side of Constance's bunk.

Frowning as an idea formed in her mind, she pointed to the flask hanging from a nearby hook and as Aramis opened it for her, quickly poured the soup into it.

* * *

The ride back to Paris was silent as Constance obviously tried to get her head around everything the Queen had divulged, as well as the fact that her best friend had known all this time, while Anne and Aramis spent the journey sneaking occasional glances at each other and grinning like idiots.

Anna pulled her horse to a stop at the city gates and gestured for the trio to do the same.

"Take the Queen to the palace and make sure no-one asks too many questions about her whereabouts." She instructed Constance. "And then find Lemay; bring him to the Garrison."

"Why?"

"I think this soup…" She patted the flask secured across her body. "…caused your nightmare."

"But we shared the same meal." Anne frowned.

"Constance used the same bowl as Emilie and had similar dreams." Aramis explained, having come to the same conclusion as Anna. "We're hoping it's just coincidence but let's find out."

* * *

"What's the matter?" Anna knew something was wrong the second she and Aramis dismounted their horses at the Garrison entrance.

They had found Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan grim faced and drinking heavily at their table and Anna noted the Ambassador's lack of presence on Treville's balcony.

"Ambassador Perales is dead."

"What?" They crossed the Garrison in long strides and joined them at the table. "He was sat right there before I left." She pointed to the corner of the balcony. "What happened?"

"We received an order to move him." D'Artagnan told them; the older Musketeer's obviously having no desire to explain. "There was supposed to be a carriage waiting but it was fake; all fake." He slammed a fist onto the wooden table top. "Rochefort claims that someone faked his seal and when we were trying to get him back here…"

"He was stabbed with a poisoned knife." Athos finished for him. "While surrounded by a Musketeer guard." They watched as he stood and strode from the table, a path clearing for him as the Musketeers eyed the fuming man carefully.

"Treville's with the King as we speak." D'Artagnan added miserably.

"What are you doing back?" Porthos asked, nodding to Aramis as he tried to change the subject from their failure. "Thought you were getting friendly with the prophet?"

"Soup." Anna explained helpfully as she raised the flask in the air. "Dodgy soup."

* * *

Lemay arrived at the Garrison within the hour. Aramis had ushered the doctor and Constance, his unofficial assistant, into the small eating area they had all occupied the day before.

Choosing to leave Athos stew for a while, Anna joined them in the small room and cautiously handed over the flask to the doctor.

"We think there might be something in it that gives you nightmares." Constance told him.

"And how do you expect me to establish that?" He asked as he emptied the flask's contents into a bowl and observed it carefully.

"You are a man of science."

"I'm a doctor not an alchemist." He corrected. "But I will do what I can." He conceded, placing the bowl on the table and opening the case he had brought.

* * *

"How could this have happened?!" Rochefort fought a grin as the King screamed at his beloved Captain of the Musketeers. "I shall be forced to grovel to King Philip in the most demeaning way!" He all but stomped his foot in annoyance as he spoke, his voice echoing through the small chamber he, The King, the Queen and Treville were currently occupying. "Why wasn't Perales protected?!"

"The question is, Your Majesty…" Rochefort began, cutting across any explanation Treville had hoped to offer. "…who killed him? Who stood to gain?"

He allowed a silence to fill the room before offering his favourite story to the monarch's.

"There is one person in Paris who, as far as I know, has never spent any time face-to-face with the Ambassador." He said smoothly. "A certain Musketeer who would be in very hot water should she be recognised as a Frenchwoman."

"Anna would never-"

"Let the man continue." Louis cut across and silenced his protesting wife. "Continue Rochefort."

"Despite the logic in my first assumption, I must agree with Her Majesty." Rochefort bowed slightly to the woman. "Mademoiselle Beauchamp, though very capable of planning this, was apparently out of the city at the time."

"She was with Emilie at the woman's camp." Treville added, eyeing Rochefort carefully as he both incriminated and defended the woman. "Nowhere near Paris."

"And so, there is only one obvious suspect."

"Emilie."

"She wants to kill every Spaniard she can lay her hands on…who better to start with than Perales?" Rochefort reminded them. "And we know she has a large following here…"

"Rochefort is right; it must be that dammed girl." Louis seethed. "Arrest her."

"Emilie is not capable of such a conspiracy." The Queen defended the woman. "It is not in her nature."

"With respect, Your Majesty, how can you possibly know that?" Rochefort watched the Queen carefully, waiting for her to explain but was interrupted by a rough-voiced Treville.

"Your Majesty, we should look more deeply into this before we jump to conclusions."

"Is anyone BUT Rochefort willing to do what their King wants?!" Rochefort was silent as he lapped up the King's praise and Treville's forced silence as His Majesty glared at the Captain. "Do as you wish Treville, but I want this solved." He swept from the room without anther glance at them.

He supressed a smirk as the Captain turned to glare at him before exiting through the back door. Ah, poor Treville; humiliated and now hoping a seed of doubt regarding dear Anna had not been planted in the King' mind.

* * *

They had found Lemay face down on a table and surrounded by small vials containing samples of the soup.

Hauling him outside for fresh air, Aramis encouraged him to take deep breaths as they stood in the Garrison's training area.

"Are you all right?" He asked the gasping doctor. "What happened?"

"I tried your soup."

"What did you discover?" Anna asked, slipping under his other arm and allowing the pair of Musketeers to fully support the doctor as Constance pressed a tankard of ale to his dry lips.

"Aside from needing more seasoning, minutes after I sampled it, I experienced a series of remarkable delusions." He told them, still gulping at the air. "I believe the broth contains a powerful narcotic drug; probably derived from a species of wild mushroom."

"So every time she received a prophecy…she was actually just experiencing the drug's effects?" Ann asked, sighing as the doctor nodded yes. "Absolutely wonderful."

They unhooked themselves from the doctor and left him leaning against a wooden support as Constance pressed a cool rag to his forehead.

"What are we going to do now?" She asked as she and Aramis made their way to the table on the other side of the open courtyard. "I mean, it's not like we can sit her down and explain that she isn't a messenger of God, it'll crush her."

"What did the King say?" They jumped at the sound of Athos' voice and turned to face the entrance to the Garrison, shocked to find the Captain dismounting his horse as Porthos and D'Artagnan appeared in the space also.

"How did we not notice that?" She asked a shrugging Aramis as the men congregated at the table.

"Rochefort has convinced him that Emilie is responsible for his death."

"But we were with her…she was in the camp all night." Anna frowned.

"He suggested that she used the citizens that follow her, here in Paris, as assassins." He sighed, pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto the table.

"And what do you think?"

"Has she caused riots in the streets? Yes. Ordered the assassination of the Spanish Ambassador? Unlikely."

"Then who did it?" Porthos asked.

"It doesn't matter; our orders are to arrest her."

"They won't give her up easily." Anna warned them. "Their devoted and…"

"And we're outnumbered ten to one in these streets alone." Athos concluded.

"We know her secret." Aramis told them with a sigh. "And I know a way she'll come willingly."

"Are you suggesting we give her what she wants?" Anna asked. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No more than you were when you turned up at the camp with guests."

"If she figures out it's a ruse and her mother has me hanged…I'll haunt you."

* * *

" _You liar! Traitors! There will be blood for this! Your blood!"_

The girl's cries from the palace's main staircase still rang in Anna's ears as she and Athos led the way to the palace dungeons, the red-head being dragged behind as they located a suitable cell for her.

"My people will come to rescue me!" Her shouts could be heard as clear as day as they entered the sub-terrane levels of the palace. "They will march on Paris!"

"I don't think so." Athos bored drawl pulled a smile from the blonde as they turned into the empty room.

To say that Emilie had not taken the realisation that she was not to meet the King well, was an understatement. She had screamed and kicked and tried to bite her way out of the guards holds and yet, here they were, in the dungeons anyway.

"God will intervene to free me!" She cried as she was tossed onto the rickety cot in the room and abandoned by her guards. "I gave you a place in my camp!" She screamed, her eyes settling on Anna. "I let you into my home and this is how you repay me?!" She spat at her feet. "Judas! Musketeer scum!"

But finding out that the woman who helped your mother prepare dinner each night was actually a Musketeer…that went down even worse with the prophet, especially as Anna stood before her in full uniform; pauldron leather shining proudly.

"Am I to be burned?" She asked, her voice quieting to a whisper as the reality of the situation hit her. "Dear Lord…" She spun from the bed and came to a rest on her knees, hands cupped as she squeezed her eyes shut. "…don't let them send me to the fire. I am not brave enough." She tightened her eyes before standing and facing the two Musketeers. "I've never even met this man; Perales." She told them desperately. "How could I have murdered him?"

"We know you didn't kill him." Athos told her.

"Then why am I here?"

"We want to help you." Anna said as she leant out of the room and signalled for someone to join them in the cell.

"Your visions are from soup, not God." Athos told her simply as Constance entered the cell, a bowl of water and a cloth in her hands.

"We think you've been drugged…perhaps for a long time." Anna elaborated as she led Emilie back to the cot. "Your mother's been poisoning you."

"My mother?" She frowned. "My mother loves me! She would never hurt me. I don't believe you!" She cried, fighting against Anna as the blonde forced her to sit on the cot's edge.

"Anna and Athos will watch over you…apparently they have some experience in these matters."

Anna watched Emilie's confusion deepen as Constance placed the bowl atop a barrel before stepping from the room, the cell door bolting behind her. Anna reached out to grip to girls shoulder as he began to cry silently.

Knowing there was another long night ahead, the blonde was comforted only by the fact that Athos was at her side, the King happy for them to handle the girl in their own way, as long as the mob ceased.

* * *

" _Call for a physician!" Athos voice reverberated through the chateau as he all but screamed for help. "Someone, anyone, please help!" He cried again as many pairs of feet raced through the airy house, searching for the Comte._

" _Monsieur!" He looked up as a young girl skidded to a halt in the doorway of the room he was occupying. "We heard your shouts and-"_

" _Help me." His voice was rough as his gaze returned to the figure laying in his arms._

 _The young girl finally took in the scene before he; the Comte fallen to his knees as Mademoiselle Anna lay comatose in his arms. She rushed forward to cradle the head of the woman she called her Mistress and pressed two bony fingers to the spot on her neck where a pulse of life should be felt._

" _She is not dead, Monsieur." She promised. "But Joseph has taken a horse into town and should be back soon I-"_

" _Fetch me some water." He cut across her, his voice steadily regaining its strength as he realised Anna was not in fact dead in his arms. "And send the doctor in as soon as he arrives." They rose together, but while the girl gathered her skirts to run to the kitchen, he scooped the fragile blonde into his arms and moved her to the bed._

* * *

"These are the Queen's private apartments, you should not be here." Rochefort ignored the uptight governess as she confronted him the Dauphin's nursery. He instead focused on the child as he grabbed at the assortment of rings adorning the Comte de Rochefort's fingers. "Monsieur, I must insist…"

"I have been watching you, Madame." He cut across her, his focus still on the gurgling baby. "Your father hopes this position will endear you to a good marriage." She fell silent and he knew he had her. "A word to the King could secure you everything you need."

"And in return?" Ah, ambition, it never ceased to make him smile.

"You want what is best for the Queen and her child." He stroked the Dauphin's cheek lightly. "And so do I…in order to protect them, I must know every detail of her daily life."

"You want me to spy on her?"

He turned from the Dauphin and flashed her a grin. Milady, Antoinette and now Marguerite…oh how he loved the secrets of ambitious young women.

* * *

" _I'm afraid, Monsieur, that I am at a loss as to what has caused this." The doctor peered at Anna once again before turning to the pacing Comte. "Has she done anything out of the ordinary lately? Ventured someplace different? Consumed anything new?"_

" _Nothing."_

" _Perhaps it is simply a fever…" He turned back to the unconscious woman whose skin had developed a light sheen in the time it had taken to reach the chateau. He placed a hand against her forehead and sighed. "…Although I have never seen one develop so quickly…"_

" _How is she?" The men glanced to the doorway of the bedroom. "Is there anything I can do?" Catherine asked as she stepped lightly into the room._

" _I'm afraid not, Mademoiselle." The doctor told her, a frown on his features as he turned back to Anna. "Unless you have observed anything out of the ordinary?"_

" _Leave us, Catherine." Athos ceased his pacing to address the loitering red-head. "You are of little use here." He missed the crest-fallen look that graced her features before she turned and pushed her way past the housekeeper._

" _My Lord, extra blankets; as requested." The woman placed the bundle on a side table and made to leave again before stopping sharply and frowning at the desk beside her._

" _Is something wrong?"_

" _Apologies, My Lord." She turned back to the worried man. "It's just…" She lifted a small, corked flask from the desk top. "…I was wondering where Mademoiselle got this?"_

 _Athos opened his mouth to speak but was practically barged out of the way as the doctor raced to snatch the bottle from her hands._

" _What are you-" He was shushed by the doctor and the man moved to stand before a small, flickering candle. Holding the object in the light, he swished the contents around slowly before un-corking it and sniffing the liquid._

" _Forgive me, My Lord, but I think…" He re-corked the bottle and peered at the liquid again. "…I think Mademoiselle Beauchamp has been drugged."_

* * *

"You did well." Rochefort found comfort in watching the infamous Milady de Winter fidget as she stood before his great desk. "It is believed that Emilie ordered the Ambassador's death."

"As I have now fulfilled our deal-"

"Ah ah." He shook a finger at her. "Not quite."

"You said: one death."

"And one is the only death you shall perform for me." He told her. "Now, onto a more pressing matter."

"I don't work for you." She said, her voice harsh as she braced herself on the desk. "We agreed on one death."

"I'm not asking you kill anyone!" He silenced her. "Anna Beauchamp."

"What of her?"

"Tell me about her."

* * *

" _She said it was a common remedy." Athos told the doctor as he fell into one of the armchairs facing the fire. "That she only needed it until our cook was feeling better." He ran a hand down his exhausted face as the doctor perched in the chair next to him._

" _What was it for?" Athos glanced over the man with a raised eyebrow and waited for the penny to drop. "Ah."_

" _Indeed." Athos returned his gaze to the fireplace and tried not to focus on the laboured breathing of the woman in his bed._

" _Daucus carota." The doctor announced after a moment of silence and he lifted the bottle to the light once more. "That explains the smell but not the effects." He rose and once again stood beside Anna, ushering the housekeeper and her wet cloth away from the woman. "You say your cook normally prepares the…remedy?"_

" _Yes, Monsieur." The housekeeper answered for the Comte who was now holding his head in his hands. "But she has been ill of late so I assume Mademoiselle found someone else to prepare it for the past few weeks."_

" _Someone who included a very addictive drug it would seem." All eyes snapped back to the unconscious woman as she let out a low moan in her sleep. "When did she last take it?"_

" _Two days ago." The doctor started as Athos appeared beside him. "Our cook returned and she said she had no more need for the stand-in." He took her hand and perched on the edge of the mattress, his eyes never leaving her._

" _She is going into withdrawal." The doctor told them, finally coming to a diagnosis. "Her body still craves the drug." He placed the bottle at the side of the bed and gathered his cloak. "There is nothing I can do for her; this…" He gestured to the comatose state. "…is only the beginning."_

* * *

"Emilie of Duras should be executed not coddled by Musketeer's in the dungeon of the King almost destroyed."

Rochefort watched the King pace the council chamber the two men currently occupied. He knew that this was his moment; his chance to change France, he just had to take it.

"It was Captain Treville's decision." He told him, watching the King's glare deepen. "I argued against it; for Your majesty's safety, but he insisted the woman would be of more use after his Musketeer's dealt with her."

"Treville." The Captain's name, once heralded by the King was now almost a sneer. "Perhaps his judgement isn't as good as it used to be; let's not forget that Perales was killed on his watch."

"Spain will expect you to take action, Sire." Rochefort commented. "Vigorous action."

"What do I do?" He asked, his eyes pleading.

"Perhaps…" Rochefort trailed off, loving how the King held onto his every word. "…Perhaps it is time for a change."

* * *

" _Athos." His vice was a whimper on her lips. "Athos please." His heart broke as he watched the woman he loved struggle to speak. "Help me, Athos."_

" _We're doing all we can, my love." He assured her as he tilted her head slightly so she could better drink from the cool cup in his hand._

" _Why are you not giving me medicine?" She asked as he lowered her back onto the mattress. "I feel so weak Athos, I cannot move, my mind is foggy, and yet my body…my body yearns for something."_

" _Sleep, my love." He told her. "We have a long night ahead of us."_

* * *

"How is she?" Anna awoke with a jump as Aramis' voice filled the cell. She felt the hard pillow she was leant against stiffen as it too woke with a jolt and she knew that Constance was entirely to blame for her current position.

It had been the brunette who insisted she get some rest once Emilie's cries died down and the red-head had fallen into a deep sleep; exhausted from her fitful night. Her last memory had been slumping onto the narrow bench beside Athos as Constance took up station at her bedside, and so, it had taken mere moments before she too gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep.

"She should be herself by now." Athos' voice was rough as they untangled themselves from their positons against each other. "If she even knows who that is."

"How long have I been asleep?" Anna's eyes fully snapped open as the red-head yawned from her cot.

"About fifteen hours." Constance told her as Anna took a seat on the thin mattress and pressed a hand to her forehead.

"I didn't dream once." She whispered, her eyes wide. "God has left me."

"A drug has left you." Anna corrected, removing her hand. "I know it feels strange but trust me; you're better without it."

"I feel so alone…I was happier before…before you…"

"Revealed the truth?" Athos asked, taking a swig from the wine bottle hanging from his fingertips.

"My mother drugged me." Anna nodded sadly at the statement. "She's supposed to love me and she hurt me."

"You have a chance to redeem everything." Aramis told her, moving to her bedside. "One chance to find a true path to God."

* * *

They walked silently side-by-side through the labyrinth of palace corridors before taking deep breaths once in the early light of the Parisian sun.

They waited until they were free from the watchful eye of the palace before ignoring the rules they imposed on themselves when in uniform and letting their hands slide into each other's.

"Constance knows about Aramis and Anne." She mumbled, as merchants set up the day's market silently around them. "She saw them kiss."

"I think Helene murdered Perales." He told her. "And I think the order came from Rochefort."

They said nothing more as they weaved through the streets, content with their brief synopsis of their separate adventures. This is what they always did at the end of a stressful day; summarised the highlights and let their silence fill in the blanks.

"I'd say let's get a drink but the taverns are more likely to be closing than opening." She joked, eyeing the early morning sun. "Bed?"

"Bed." He agreed, exhausted from a night filled with screams and memories.

They made to turn down the street that would lead them to their rest but were intercepted by a young boy clutching a note.

"Tell me you're joking." She groaned as they read the note. Sighing, she pressed a coin into the child's hand and the two parted, righting their uniforms and rubbing their eyes, they let their fleur-de-lis' take over as they turned and headed to the Garrison.

* * *

"I want you all to know that no blame falls on any of you." Treville's voice was heavy as he addressed his favourite five-some. "And your duties remain unchanged."

The gathered Musketeers exchanged frowns at their Captain's vague words. They returned their attention to him as he took a deep breath.

"I have been relieved of my command." Anna knew that her brother's faces would be identical to her own; eyes wide, jaw slacked and posture still as they digested his words. "I am no longer your Captain."

* * *

Not a single Red Guard stopped her as she marched through the palace. She wanted to think that the path carved for her as she approached the office of the Comte de Rochefort was due to the murderous expression she wore and yet, she knew that he was waiting for her; that he had ordered his men to stand down and let her storm through the ornate halls.

She threw open the door to his office and sure enough, he was sat, feet propped on his desk, grinning at her.

"Welcome Mademoiselle Beauchamp. Please…" He gestured to the small chair clearly set out for her. "…please take a seat."

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" She spat.

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, his face the picture of innocence as she remained stood, her hands gripping the back of the chair.

"You had Treville de-commissioned as Captain of the Musketeers!"

"I can assure you, Mademoiselle, that any such order would come from the King himself, not me."

"That's funny." She let out a humourless laugh. "Then why, pray tell, was his de-commission written in your hand?"

"You wouldn't believe how many people can mirror my hand." He smiled. "Just ask your Cap- sorry, your **comrade** Treville."

"Ah yes, the order for Perales' movement." She released the chair and moved to sit in it. "A story I heard all about."

"So you see…"

"I know you had him killed." She cut across him. "I know you ordered Milady de Winter to poison him and I know you strangled your favourite prostitute and then sent me her ear." She amazed herself with how level her voice was. "The bow was a lovely touch by the way."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you killed him because he knew too much. And I know exactly what he said to you before you ad him killed."

"Stand down, Mademoiselle Beauchamp." He let his feet drop from the desk as she spoke and focused on her, his eyes and voice dark. "Or you may something you'll come to regret."

"I know that you're loyalties are to Spain." She whispered darkly. "And if you add in the fact that you love the Queen far more than anyone would deem appropriate, I think you'll find that I'll regret **nothing** when I speak with the King."

"Stand down."

"What did Vargas promise you?" She asked. "A principality? A place at court? The hand of the King's sister?" She laughed. "What exactly did he say that made you turn on your own country?"

He was silent for a moment, watching her as she leant back into her chair and smirked at him.

"Very good, Mademoiselle." He applauded her softly as he rose. "Excellent detective work." He moved to stand in front of her. "Now, I think you deserve a rest from working so hard; I know your time with Emilie has worn you out and so I'm going to help you."

"What are you-"

"We both know these heinous accusations are the product of lack of sleep." He began, grinning at her. "And so, until you are confirmed as being fully rested and of sound mind…" He reached over and retrieved a small piece of paper, signed and sealed by the Comte himself.

"What is that?" She asked as he held it out to her, his smile growing as the fear in her voice rose.

"I hereby suspend you from the Musketeers."


	6. The Return

" _I hereby suspend you from the Musketeers."_

Anna's eyes flashed open as the Comte de Rochefort's smug face filled her unconscious mind. She had been plagued with the memory of her abrupt dismissal ever since he had uttered those soul destroying seven words.

But the worst part had not been taking the letter from him or making her way back through the palace, convinced every Red Guard was laughing at her. No, the worst part by far was returning the Garrison.

Her feet had been like lead as she dragged herself into the courtyard where the Musketeers were still cursing at the dismissal of their beloved Captain and mostly ignored her and her iron grip on the flimsy envelope.

It had been Aramis who first noticed something was wrong when his attention had been caught by the woman shakily trying to pour herself a drink. They had all flocked to their table though, when she reached up to un-buckle the leather pauldron moulded onto her shoulder and let it fall with a definitive thud onto the table top.

She had spent the following days doing absolutely nothing; wandering through markets and exploring forgotten areas of the city she loved so much. She had fallen into a sort of routine; she would wait for Athos to leave for the Garrison before rising and then spend the day as far from the Musketeer Headquarters as possible before returning home in time to greet her love.

She still couldn't look him in the eye though, she knew he had so many questions, not just about her suspension but also Treville's demotion, and yet he had fought the urge to ask and she had not offered; knowing that once she opened that door – things would never be the same.

Today was supposed to be another one of her nothing days'; yesterday she spotted a market stall claiming to stock the same wine Athos' parents had been fond of back in Pinon and she planned to buy a few bottles for her Musketeer, lord knows he deserved it after putting up with her lack of explanations, especially as he hadn't been home in a few days - likely on a Musketeer mission.

Throwing back the thin sheet covering her, she let her feet fall onto the hard wooden floor before pushing herself from the mattress with a sigh. Yes, today was going to be another boring day.

* * *

Athos knew his day was off to a bad start when he couldn't exactly pinpoint where he was or who was holding him up as the toes of his boots dragged along the dusty floor. He still couldn't figure it out even after he'd been deposited into a chair and his wrists and feet bound.

A hostage situation then? Wonderful.

He tried to summon the energy to lift his head but failed as it lolled instead, his eyes trying to focus as they refused to open beyond slits. He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted by the arrival of a cup of water being tossed in his direction. He couldn't figure out if the water dripping from his hair and face was a blessing or a curse; they were either lousy torturers or simply trying to get him lucid enough to properly feel the oncoming pain.

"Who are you?" It was those three words, croaked out from his own dry mouth, which told him all he needed to know about the situation; he'd been drugged. "Where is this?" His voice was stronger as he asked his second question but his no-doubt bloodshot eyes were inhibiting him from discerning his whereabouts.

No, this was going to be a decidedly bad day.

* * *

"He wouldn't just disappear without a word to anyone." Aramis' words rang true for each of the three musketeers filling the entrance to the Garrison's stable.

"Something's wrong." Porthos agreed as he pushed off the door frame and faced his best friend and the pacing D'Artagnan.

"Why bring this to me?" The three men turned, each now facing the stable's interior as their former Captain rolled his shoulder before plunging a shovel into the pile of used hay at his feet. "I'm no longer your commander officer; just an ordinary Musketeer on work detail."

"Athos would not just vanish." D'Artagnan stressed to the man.

"Athos is either drunk somewhere or with his…" The man paused as he struggled to find the right word. "…what exactly is Anna to him?"

"We've checked all the usual taverns and I passed Anna at the market this morning – no one's seen him in days and she thinks he's on a mission…" Porthos exclaimed, ignoring the Captain's question. "…didn't have the heart to correct her." He mumbled, trailing off as Treville sighed and stepped back from the hay.

They watched as the man stared into the straw as he thought through their points; Athos hadn't been seen for days and even if he was sleeping off a hangover, the innkeepers usually sent word of a fevered Musketeer at their tables.

But all that had stopped, the former Captain reminded himself; his lieutenant hadn't drunk himself stupid since the reappearance of a certain blonde and even though the pair was definitely getting closer, their sense of duty was un-paralleled and they always made it to the Garrison.

He closed his eyes in defeat before snapping hem open again and striding to his favoured Musketeers, a decision clearly having been reached.

"The sooner this is done, the sooner we can look for him." He pushed the shovel into D'Artagnan's hand and headed back inside the bustling Garrison, Aramis and Porthos hot on his heels as D'Artagnan stared indignantly at the offending object.

Treville fought a smile as he thought of how far the boy had come; moving up the ranks only to be landed with mucking out yet again.

* * *

His sight was still blurry as he tried to regain full use of his senses. So far, all he could make out were the hazy silhouettes of a group of people and a small source of light to his right that was somehow obstructed and yet, the groggy feeling pumping through his veins would probably inhibit him even if his captors were fully visible.

"Someone speak to me." His tongue felt like lead as he fought to form basic words.

A rectangle of light stole his attention as he was ignored by his captors. The bright whiteness filling his eyes was interrupted as another hazy figure strode into the room, the glint of the knife in his hand recognisable to the Musketeer even when drugged.

"If you mean to kill me, at least give me the courtesy of an explanation."

"We mean you no harm…" He squinted as one of the figures moved across the room towards the obstructed light. "…my Lord."

He blinked slowly as his vision returned and as soon as his eyes focused on the crowd before him, he desperately wished for the numbness to return.

"You know us now?" His eyes slid over to the young woman with her hands on her hips, staring down at him.

"You're Bertrand, the innkeeper at Pinon." He nodded to the man at her side. "And his daughter; Jeanne." He carefully watched them and the fidgeting crowd behind them. "What is the meaning of this?" His voice had regained his strength and he was finally able to form coherent sentences as he stared them down.

"Forgive us, my Lord…we didn't know what else to do." Bertrand said slowly.

"We had no choice!" Jeanne corrected her father as Athos glanced down to inspect the ropes holding him to the chair as he strained to isolate the sounds from outside of his prison, hoping to determine what part of Paris he was in. "You ignored all our letters."

"I make it a rule never to open letters." He drawled, his head falling back. "NOW CUT ME LOOSE, DAMN YOU!" The gathered crowd gasped at his transformation as his head snapped upright and his eyes blazed. "I could have your heads for this." He muttered, letting his head loll backwards again as calls were made for a knife to be brought forward.

"At least that would be quick…" He eyed the feisty girl as she started again. "…starving to death takes such a long time."

"Forgive her, my Lord." Bertrand pushed his daughter back. "Jeanne speaks out of turn."

"He needs to know the truth!" She insisted, breaking past her father to stare at Athos. "You **judge** us in our desperation; these are **your** lands, **your** people – and you have neglected us all!" He remained silent as he watched her, trying to place why her outburst seemed so familiar. "It is **you** that should be judged, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere."

"Cut me loose." He cut across her, focusing instead on her quiet father. "I will not listen to your complaints while tied to a chair."

Bertrand was quiet for a moment, simply watching the volatile Comte before nodding for a knife to be procured and the ropes holding the man down, sliced through.

The ropes had barely fallen from his body before Athos had risen to his feet and took his first, drug-laden steps. Shutting his eyes as he felt his body sway, he batted away the help of Jeanne and pushed his way through the crowds and into the sunshine that had taunted him when blind.

One step into the dust-filled air and he felt his heart stop. The village had barely changed in all the years he had been away and the thought that time had stood still in the small slice of France made him feel physically sick.

"Oh Goddamn you." He breathed as he stepped further into the village square. "You've brought me back."

* * *

Anna was startled to say the least when she rounded the corner of the lodgings she and Athos now shared to find three Musketeers and one former Captain lounging against the wall opposite her door.

"Where is he?" Her mind filled with worries as she took in the faces of everyone but Athos. "Please tell me he isn't-"

"He isn't." Her shoulders sagged in relief as Aramis' hand came to rest on her arm as Porthos took her basket. "But we do need to speak with you."

With a small, confused nod she let them inside, ushering each man into the small space in the heart of Paris.

"So…" She closed the door behind them and unclasped her cape. "…If he isn't…" She trailed off, not wanting to say the word that was often linked so closely with the job of a Musketeer. "…then where is he?" She indicated for the men to take seats at the table Athos had lugged up the stairs weeks prior in an attempt to make the place more homely.

"We don't know." Aramis told her, placing his hat on the surface of the wooden table and taking a seat opposite Treville.

"What do you mean you don't know?" She asked, turning to watch each man as they turned from her, not wanting to be the one who told her.

"Something's different in here." D'Artagnan commented as he looked around the room, still ignoring the woman. "What's he changed?"

"Everything." Aramis cut across Anna as she opened her mouth to speak. "I was here a few months ago and…nothing's the same." He gestured around.

"We made some changes, now stop stalling and tell me where he is." They all refocused on Anna as she stood in the centre of the room.

"No one's seen him for days." Porthos was the first to break the silence. "We've looked all over Paris and he's nowhere."

"You told me he was on a mission."

"Uhh." He scratched his head as he tried not to fidget under her unrelenting stare. "No…I didn't."

"I saw you this morning and you said-"

"I didn't not say he was on mission."

"Porthos du Vallon, I swear to God-"

"As soon as we realised he's not in Paris we came here." Treville's hands were on her shoulders in an instant, holding her back from attacking the large Musketeer. "Is there anything here that could tell us where he is?"

"No, I…" She glanced around the room, inwardly cursing herself for not asking more questions about Athos' absence. "…I don't think so." She turned from Treville, letting his hands fall from her shoulders. "But please, feel free to look." She forced a smile for the three Musketeers as they rose and began their search.

She watched them for a moment before collecting the cloak she had thrown over a chair back and moving to hang it beside the door.

"What've you got?" She turned at the sound of Porthos' voice and watched as D'Artagnan scanned a small piece of paper.

"Bills?"

"A letter…" D'Artagnan corrected Aramis as Anna moved to stand beside him. "…From the estate of the Comte de la Fere asking Athos to return." He surmised before the note was snatched from his hands and read by the blonde woman.

"We are in desperate need of your protection." She read from the note, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "We entreat you to return to us and honour the responsibility of your family." She stared at the days old ink on the parchment before dropping it and reaching for the stack of letters D'Artagnan held out for her. "They're all in the same hand." She mumbled as she opened a random selection of the notes. "Signed by Bertrand; the innkeeper at Pinon." She handed Treville the note and pointed to the scrawled name at the bottom.

"There's your answer then; family business – nothing to do with us." He handed her back the note and turned to the Musketeers. "Now, I have work to do." He pressed a quick kiss to Anna's cheek and strode to the door.

"Pinon is only a day's ride away." D'Artagnan reminded him as he intercepted the former Captain. "We could just check…unless you'd rather stay here shovelling sh-"

"Surely anything's better than that?" Aramis cut across the boy with a smirk. "And we owe it to Athos to investigate just in case." He nodded lightly towards the stoic woman still stood facing the window as she continued to open the stack of letters and stare at the dates.

Treville watched the woman frown at the notes before heaving a sigh.

"All right." He conceded. "I'll ride with you, but as a **comrade** , not your commanding officer."

"Whatever you say, **Captain**." D'Artagnan grinned, clapping the man on the shoulder before exiting the lodgings, Aramis and Porthos following with matching grins.

"He would never return there willingly." Anna's voice was barely above a whisper as she dropped the paper onto the table. "Not even if the King himself told him to." She turned to Treville, her face devoid of any emotion. "I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to; that place holds just as many bad memories for you."

"I don't care…it's time to face my past."

* * *

"I LEFT THIS LIFE!"

Athos' shouts could likely be heard throughout the French countryside as he confronted the people who had dragged him back to his personal hell-hole.

"A long time ago." He mumbled as he turned and stalked away from the small inn. "What gives you the right to bring me back?" He asked over his shoulder as Jeanne jogged to catch him, the remaining villagers pouring into the square.

"We need your help!"

"You don't need a Lord to tell you how to work the fields; you've always done it." He reminded them as he approached the well and took a drink from the waiting bucket.

"It's not us…it's Baron Renard." Jeanne told him as her father caught up to them and the villagers gathered around the well, all eager to catch a glimpse of their absent Comte as he hunched over the bucket, desperately trying to erase the sluggishness from his body. "He burns the crops and poisons whatever's left; he wants your land for himself." She told him. "We need the protection of our Liege Lord; the Comte de la Fere."

"The Comte no longer exists." He told her, his eyes hard before casting them around the poor village, still leaning heavily on the bucket. "I'll talk to Renard." He sighed after a moment of consideration. "And then I hope to never see any of you again."

"Hate this place if you like, but don't punish its people."

"You don't let up do you?" He asked, fighting a smile at her spirit.

"A trait I learnt under your employment." She replied, her eyes bright with fire. He stared at her for a moment, trying to pin her face onto a member of his former staff before shaking his head.

 _Jeanne._ A name he knew but couldn't place. _Jeanne._ The girl was surely too young to have been in his staff.

" _Dear Jeanne, you need to learn to stand up for yourself; a woman won't get far in this world if she doesn't put her foot down, ma douce colombe."_

"You were Anna's girl." He observed, watching as she held herself better at the mention of her former mistress's name. "Her sweet dove." He knew the traces of smile were gracing his lips as he recited the name Anna had often cooed to the young girl as she made her laugh.

"My mistress once said that if you don't stand up for what's right then there's no point in standing at all."

"Yeah…" He turned back to the bucket and gave his face a final splash of the cool water. "…you were Anna's girl."

A horse's whinny interrupted the oncoming thoughts of their happier times in that cursed house and the Musketeer was, for a short moment, grateful for it. Grateful, until he witnessed the venom Jeanne and the people of Pinon began to show towards the approaching riders.

He watched as Jeanne stalked to the village's entrance to face the men and once again found himself fighting a smile at the determinedness she showed when regarding her village – at least her time in the doomed chateau had been productive.

Various shouts of _'Out of my way'_ and _'Clear the road'_ filled the air as the riders entered Pinon, their horses kicking up a thin layer of dust as they began to circle the gathered villagers.

Athos' eyes focused and through the grainy air he monitored the movements of one of the riders in particular: a relatively young man, cloaked in ornate fabric and a vicious looking whip at his side. He remained still, always watching, until the boy rounded on a passing villager and began striking the frail man.

Pushing his way through the square, he reached out to cover the villager while effortlessly pulling the rider from his horse and pinning him to the dusty floor.

"You dare lay a hand on me, peasant?" The boy spat as he scrambled to his feet, his eyes full of disdain for the sweaty stranger before him.

"Edmond!" The boy stopped his advances towards Athos as an older man rode into the square. "What is going on here?" He asked as the boy, presumably Edmond, stepped back and away from Athos' furious gaze.

"Your son needs to learn some manners, Baron de Louviers." Athos coolly cut across the boy who responded with a snap of the whip still grasped in his hand.

"Stop that!" The Baron called out as his son prepared to strike again, this time the whip intending to strike the stranger and not the dust below his boots. "And open your eyes boy." He commanded, dismounting his steed and strolling to the pair. "Do you not recognise a man of noble bearing?" Athos felt his jaw twitch as the boy sneered before looking him up and down; taking in the dusty clothes and unruly hair of the man before him. "This is the Comte de la Fere." The Baron told him as Edmond finally met Athos' eyes and recoiled from the fury there.

"Your man's behaviour is a disgrace." Athos' voice was low as he finally turned from the boy to his father.

"Well, perhaps if you'd shown a little more interest in the last few years, I would not have had to intervene." The Baron shrugged, seeing no wrong in his son's disgusting actions towards the gentle people of Pinon.

"You have no right to abuse your power."

"My right, my dear Comte, is that of any concerned neighbour." The Baron's tone turned from friendly to vicious in seconds and Athos watched from the corner of his eye as his men rounded up the little livestock residing in the village. "Your estate has gone to rack and ruin; its people are thieves and parasites." He held a hand to his heart and Athos fought the urge to roll his eyes at his fake sincerity and concern. "I was only attempting to assert some order."

"I'm sure we can sort this out like honourable men."

"Nothing would please me more." The Baron's smile turned wolfish. "Lead on."

Athos' remained still for a millisecond; watching the Baron intently before turning and carving a path through the measly group of villagers with the hope that this would be sorted and he could be on his way within the hour.

* * *

"So how long have you and Athos been living together?"

Anna had been waiting for that particular question since the moment she and the four Musketeers had ridden out of the Garrison gates. Honestly, she was impressed that Aramis had held out this long and not simply broken at the Paris gates.

"You're living together?" Anna held in a laugh at Treville's question.

"Come on, Captain." D'Artagnan laughed at the man's eye-roll at the title. "You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you lived at the Bonacieux's."

"Have you met Monsieur Bonacieux?" Aramis asked with a sneer. "Can't blame the girl for running once Constance left for the palace."

Anna was perfectly happy to not be an actual member of this conversation. Riding at the back of the group she let a smile fall over her lips as the four men debated the pros and cons of lodging with the draper between themselves.

She was glad, in a way that she had insisted on accompanying them on their trip to Pinon. She had not had a glimpse of the village she had once adored in so long – always taking back routes when heading for the chateau, and honestly, she did long to see it once more.

They had left for Paris in such a rush all those years ago; Athos refusing to spend another moment in that 'poisoned house' and so the pair had simply galloped, as fast as they could, from the place and towards a new life in Paris.

Though, if she were being truly honest with herself, returning to Pinon to recuse a likely kidnapped Athos was not something she was 100% looking forward to. She had often thought that if she were ever to return to this part of France, she would do it with her pauldron proudly displayed on her shoulder and hopefully heading to a peaceful retirement in the grassy hills that symbolised her youth.

No, this was not at all how she pictured it and despite being in her uniform, the lack of covering on her shoulder was killing her. But that was not the sole reason for the trepidation flooding her body, she realised as the road ahead began to curve, for the last time she had ridden down this track without fully knowing what laid ahead was a time long past and the blonde had been a different person entirely.

* * *

The inn at Pinon was not the most luxurious building the former Comte de la Fere had ever sat in, and yet, the simple bar and mismatched collection of tables and chairs were the perfect place for this conversation with the snobbish Baron.

Pinon was, in its essence, a simple town with simple people working the land that had been passed down from generation to generation. The fields surrounding it had been both playground and workplace for centuries and Athos knew that were the Baron and his son to get their hands on it; the village would be torn to shreds and the land used for hunting.

It shocked Athos how disturbing the thought was. Once upon a time this village had been one of the most important things in his life and he could clearly remember strolling around it at his father's side when he was just a boy; watching as the villagers conversed with their beloved liege lord.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts; he hadn't loved this place for a long, long time and nothing was ever going to change that. No, he was going to escape from this hellhole as soon as possible.

"You're very kind my dear." The Baron's sickly words broke him from his thoughts as Jeanne placed two cups onto the table at which they sat. Athos nodded a thanks to the girl as the crimson liquid sat before him and opened his mouth to begin discussions when the Baron's hand clamped around her wrist. "And very pretty." The old man mused, staring intently at the innocent beauty the innkeeper's daughter possessed. "Normally, I find the peasant class as ugly as gargoyles…" He let out a laugh. "…but every now and then one discovers a rose amongst the thorns."

"Shall we get to business?" Athos cut across his lecherous comments with a sigh. He had no intention of sitting through the Baron's attempts at flirtation with the woman he had known as a young girl. "I'm anxious to return to Paris."

"What are your plans for the estate?" The Baron released Jeanne almost instantly at the mention of the Musketeer's new life in Paris.

"The estate is of no more concern for me." He told the man whose eyebrows raised in what Athos could only assume was a mixture of delight and surprise at his bluntness. "I have renounced my title and relocated my life to Paris."

"One cannot renounce what is given by God." The Baron's outrage was evident as his eyes went wide at the mere thought of simply throwing away a title of nobility.

"God had no part in the matters of my estate." Athos' words were blunt as he toyed with the rim of his cup.

"I've never heard of such a thing!" The Baron gasped. "What about your position? Your responsibility to the social order? This land is a sacred trust: it is your birth right and your family name!"

"I am not asking for your approval." Athos met his eyes with a cool stare and the Baron quickly ceased in his objections. "I am still the legal landowner and as such I must have your undertaking that my tenants will be left in peace."

Shock still raced through the Baron as he stood from the table and took his place at his son's side.

"Perhaps you care more for such low people…" He sneered at Jeanne and Bertrand. "…now that you are one of them yourself." Athos refused to rise to the obvious jibe and instead remained seated, his gaze stead on the old man as he moved once more to stand beside the former Comte. "However, I promise you they will be treated as they deserve." Athos said nothing as the man reluctantly held out a hand to the Musketeer and with a quick glance to a clearly relieved Jeanne and Bertrand he met it and shook.

Within seconds the Baron and his fuming son had exited the inn and were striding back to their horses, deep in discussion.

"Thank you." Jeanne's voice, which only an hour earlier had been shouting at him, was now calm. "I knew you'd help us." He met her eyes before draining the cup he had been avoiding during his talk with the Baron. With a curt nod to the pair, he pushed back his seat and followed the path out the door and back into the unrelenting heat.

"If you aren't the Comte anymore…" Athos paused at his words and turned, squinting against the sunlight as the Baron and his son moved away from their horses and back into the centre of the square, the villagers clearly holding their breaths for his next words. "…then you're the same as them…and so you must kneel in the presence of your **betters**."

"You gave me your word." Athos felt his rage ignite as he realised the Baron had no intention of honouring his words.

"I don't negotiate with peasants." The Musketeer's hands curled into fists at the Baron's smugness. "I said kneel!" With the flick of his wrist, two men appeared from nowhere and began trying to force Athos to his knees.

The Musketeer let out a roar before singlehandedly taking them out and quickly disposing of the additional men the Baron was silently instructing to restrain him. But it was not, the uniformed men who eventually brought him to his knees, no, it was the pistol swung across his spine that forced him into the dirt, the swish of an ornate cloak being the last thing he saw as he landed on his stomach.

"No!"

He heard the protests of the gentle innkeeper as the Comte was forced to remain on the floor after a swift kick to his ribs. The man tried in vain to push past the Baron's household guard but was held back as his daughter too tried to breach their perimeter around the fallen Liege Lord.

"The Comte de la Fere is no more." Athos was kicked onto his back as the Baron addressed the citizens of Pinon. "This man is a vagrant and an imposter." He sneered at the now dirty clothes of the Musketeer. "The punishment for such a crime must be exemplary."

* * *

" _How much further, Mamma?" The silence of the dirt road was broken by a young blonde as she patted the sturdy neck of the horse beneath her and turned to the woman riding beside her._

" _Not far." The older woman told her golden haired daughter. "This road should take straight to the village and then we are to ask for an escort to the estate."_

" _I still don't understand why we had to leave Monsieur le Rey in Auxerre." Anna sighed. "He was so very nice."_

" _Yes, my sweet, but-"_

" _He bought me such pretty dresses." The blonde picked at the plain gown she was now dressed in. "And he said that a very special commission was on its way to me but you whisked us away before it could arrive."_

" _My sweet-"_

" _It's just not fair, Mamma." She huffed. "He was so very kind to us; giving us a cottage to live in and allowing me to sit on Lucien's lessons." Her lips curled into a light smile._

" _Enough." Anna glanced over to her mother who held her horse's reigns tightly in her fists. "My darling, as much as I love you, you are so easily blinded…" She pulled her horse to a stop and Anna, frowning, did the same. "Le Rey was not the wonderful man you believe him to be." She told her daughter. "And that 'special commission', Antoinette, think about it." She urged her daughter but sighed at the blank expression on her face. "A special dress to be worn at a secret party just for you? My sweet…"_

" _How could I be so foolish?" Anna held her head in her hands as her mother's words finally clicked into place. "I thought he intended me to marry Lucien when we were both older, especially once he learnt of Father's title, but…oh Mamma, I'm such a fool!" Her mind was suddenly filled with memories of Le Rey always smiling just a little too much when she twirled in her new gowns._

" _My sweet dove." She reached across to grasp her daughter's hand. "It is not your fault. I should have seen it sooner but I too was blinded by his generosity especially as we arrived without a penny to our names after your father's death." The women exchanged small smiles as Anna's father came to mind. "Alas, le Rey and his estate was not the future we thought it would be." She released her daughters hand and the pair urged their horses onwards along the dirt road._

" _Tell me more about where we're going, Mamma."_

" _We're going to the home of the Comte and Comtesse de La Fere." The woman beamed proudly as she enunciated the noble name. "They have two sons; the oldest apparently only a year or two older than you but there is quite an age difference between him and the younger." Anna let her mind wander as her mother's words rolled over her; images of the family she was soon to meet filling her mind. "Their governess has just left and they are more than happy to accept both of us."_

 _"Do they know about father and uncle?"_

 _"No my sweet, and I have no plans on telling them; you see how it got us in hot water with Le Rey?"_

 _"I still don't see why uncle sent us away, Mamma."_

 _"He wanted the estate, my sweet dove, and after your father's death...we were the only things stopping him from getting it."_

 _"But we survived." Anna grinned at her mother, desperate to get rid of the dark cloudds that had formed over them._

 _"Yes we did, ma_ _douce colombe, yes we did."_

 _The women shared another smile as the road veered left and the pair trotted into the small village_ _ahead of them, their greatest adventure just beginning._

* * *

Once again, Athos was unable to pinpoint exactly where he was when consciousness began to return to his body. All he knew was that the Baron, the man who had promised to leave the people of Pinon alone, had lied.

That, and the rope currently suspending him in mid-air in the centre of the silent village, was chafing like hell.

His eyes were like slits as he surveyed the scene around him; the villagers all silent as they waited, with baited breath, for the Baron's next move as the man himself sat directly opposite the former Comte – a sadistic smile on his face as he nodded to his son.

The boy took two steps forward but that was not what caught Athos' attention. No, it was the woman standing hidden behind the blacksmiths store and specifically the pistol in her hand…the pistol pointing straight at him. He felt his eyes open further as he caught sight of the auburn hair escaping from her hat and his stomach sunk as recognition overcame him and suddenly, he understood why she was aiming to kill.

"You can't do this!" Hi attention shifted from the would-be murderess as Bertrand called out, breaking the line of villagers as he spoke.

His attempt to overcome Edmond was futile and soon the innkeeper was face-first in the dust; the boy's whip repeatedly lashing through his clothing and slicing into the soft skin of his back as Edmond shouted:

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Leave him alone!" Jeanne swiftly joined her father on the floor and had Athos any more strength he would have called out against the unnecessary cruelty to the father and daughter, alas, the simple fact that his wrists were slowly sliding from their sockets was currently exhausting him.

He opened his mouth to protest as the whipping of Bertrand continued but was cut off by the unexpected sound of a gunshot. His eyes scrunched shut as he anticipated the musket ball flying straight towards him and wasn't sure whether or not it was a sick joke that his last ever sight would be this damned place.

But even he did not expect to instead be met by the solid ground and a quick move of his still bound hands told him that she had not in fact shot to kill but to release him from his suspension.

"Soldiers are coming!"

Fighting the urge to both laugh and cry, Athos rolled from the well above which he had been suspended as the Baron quickly digested the news.

"Withdraw!" That one word, shouted by the old man, was the salvation Athos needed and within seconds the Baron's men were fleeing the village just as five sets of hooves filled the air.

He forced down a groan as the number resonated with him; five – Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan, Treville and of course, Anna.

Deep down he knew he should have expected it; the group never one for simply shrugging off an unexplained absence but honestly – he cut off his internal monologue as screams filled the air and, pushing himself to his feet he shouted after the retreating men as he watched Jeanne kick and scratch her way out of their hold to no avail and soon, the girl was riding away; far from her after and with the men he trusted the least to not harm her.

* * *

Pinon was in chaos.

That was Anna's first thought as they came galloping down the last stretch of the dirt road. The five had been happily chatting away; their horses relaxing into a gentle walk as the road ahead thinned and Pinon started to come into view, but had spurred their steeds onwards as a single gunshot rang out.

She knew the men had traded worried looks as she abruptly ended their conversation and had barrelled on ahead, but there was a darkness pooling in the pit of her stomach and she knew that gunshot meant nothing but trouble.

Her horse came to a sharp stop as she crossed the threshold into Pinon and mere moments later she was joined by four other horses.

Her eyes flitted around the village as she remained atop her steed. The breath in her breast was coming in short bursts as she was overwhelmingly bombarded with memories of the place. Her grip on the reigns tightened as they culminated in a single image; death.

Forcing her eyes open, they landed almost instantly on a clearly defeated Athos. Her breathing calmed as she saw he was not only alive but also unscathed as Porthos cut through the ropes on his wrists. Taking a deep breath, she moved her gaze on from Athos and to the group of people whispering quickly amongst themselves against the dreary backdrop of the impoverished town Pinon had become.

Shaking her head she noted that she was now the only one still atop her horse and that the Musketeers were watching her carefully.

"What happened?" Her voice was stronger than she thought it would be as she cast her gaze around the village and the people eyeing her carefully as she sat straight as a pole in her saddle.

"Baron de Louviers."

* * *

Bertrand's back was a handful of lashes away from being mere ribbons of blood. Anna flinched at the sight as the innkeeper lifted his shirt and took a seat on the chair Porthos ha dragged outside while Aramis rummaged for the medical supplies he always carried with his horse.

"What will they do with my Jeanne?" He asked, clutching her hand as Aramis took a stand behind him and studied the wounds.

"Don't worry; we'll find her." She promised, squeezing his hand before taking a step away as Aramis readied the bottle of alcohol to sterilize his back.

"Give up your title if it makes you happy, I mean that, but think about these people; they live on **your** land and they need **your** help."

With a simple clear of her throat she ushered D'Artagnan and his intended words of encouragement from the side of the Comte de la Fere.

"I have nothing to offer them." Athos told her as the boy left them.

"Then do nothing." She took the bottle of wine from his hand and took a swig. "But I'm staying and I'm pretty sure they are too." She nodded to the Musketeers; Aramis dealing with Bertrand, Porthos and D'Artagnan discussing a plan and Treville simply mingling as he tried to gain more information on the situation.

"Let them stay." His words were emotionless. "We have no reason to stay." He took the bottle back.

"I don't think you heard me…I'm staying here." Her voice was laced with confusion. "Those men took Jeanne; someone I have known since she I first came here…I'm not leaving this place until its people are safe, Athos…" She stared incredulously at him as he refused to face her and instead stared out into the emptying village square. "…we owe them that."

"We owe them nothing!" His harsh whisper caught the attention of the gathered Musketeers but he ignored them. "I have nothing for them."

"The Athos I know; the Musketeer, always fights against injustice…whether it's against King's or peasants…why do you not offer your own people the same courtesy?"

"No." He pushed past her.

"When you came to me and said that you'd joined the Musketeers, I said nothing!" She shouted after him, forcing him to halt. "I stood by you in your time of need and left my home." He still refused to turn to her and she was now very aware of the eyes of the village on her. "I'm asking you to stand by me this time."

"This is not your fight." He turned his head slowly as he spoke, their eyes meeting.

"No, you're right…" She conceded, her eyes alight. "It's **your** fight, Monsieur de Comte de la Fere…but you made it my fight all those years ago!" She took a breath before closing the gap between them slightly and speaking as calmly as she could; "We left because someone took our reason to live…don't let the same thing happen to these people, **your** people."

There was a beat of silence between them before Athos fully turned to her. Heaving a sigh of relief that her words had worked, she opened her mouth once more to call the Musketeers to action but felt all words escape her as he reached out for the reigns of the nearest horse, pulled himself into the saddle and simply rode out of town.

"What do we do now, my Lady?" Bertrand's voice was faint as she watched Athos disappear down a road she knew too well.

"We fight."

* * *

 _The sword at Athos' side felt heavy as he dragged his feet into the chateau. His training session had been exhausting this morning as he pushed himself harder than ever in an effort to please his father._

 _He knew that the endless interviews his parents had been holding to try and find a new governess for Thomas had wearing the man out and so, the future Comte was looking forward to showing him how much he honed his skill with a rapier._

 _The young man was lost in thought as he rounded the top of the staircase and slammed directly into a body moving in the opposite direction. His hands acted on instinct and a fraction of a second later the figure was not sprawled on the floor as expected but safely held against his chest, their legs intertwined as he steadied them._

" _My apologies, monsieur." It was only when the breathless voice of a girl floated up to him, did Athos realise he had no idea who the young woman in his arms was._

" _No apologies necessary, mademoiselle." He assured her, their eyes connecting and the young Lord suddenly found himself lost the endless blue peering up at him._

" _Athos!" The pair turned their heads quickly as the name was called and Athos felt a light blush settle on his cheeks as his father raised an eyebrow at the sight before him._

" _Father." He felt the woman's spine straighten at the title before she quickly untangled herself from his hold and fell into a curtsey before the older man._

" _Monsieur." She addressed his father, her eyes never leaving the floor. "It is an honour to meet you, my Comte."_

" _No need for that, girl." The Comte de la Fere insisted as she rose from her place. "We don't do that sort of thing here."_

 _And he was right; the home of the Comte de la Fere was perhaps one of the few noble households in France who did away with the tight restrictions of courtly behaviour; the family opting instead to try and be as normal as possible while surrounded with the seclusion of the sleepy countryside._

" _I see you've met my son, Athos." She nodded lightly, her eyes flitting to him and a gentle smile forming on her lips. "My wife is showing your mother the room we've set aside for Thomas' schooling." He told her as he moved to pass them and descend the staircase. "You're more than welcome to join her."_

" _I can show her, father." The old man nodded before leaving them. "So your mother is going to be my brother's new governess?"_

" _It would seem so." She mused, smiling as he gestured for her to join him as they walked along the endless corridor. "Pinon seems like a lovely village." She complimented, hoping to fill the silence that had fallen over them as she sneaked the occasional peek at the man._

" _It is." He assured her. "Perhaps…perhaps I could take you there…if you wanted." He wanted to kick himself for stammering. "But I imagine you'd rather settle in first; the rooms mother has set aside for you are quite lovely, they overlook the fields and-"_

" _I'd love to." She interrupted as they came to a stop outside a small room._

" _Excellent." He grinned at her before realising his error in decorum. "Forgive me, I…I do not know your name."_

" _Anna." She smiled as he took her hand and pressed a light kiss to its back._

" _A pleasure to meet you, Anna…I hope you'll enjoy our home."_

* * *

Athos' mind was full of memories as he stared up at the dilapidated house before him. Ravaged by a fire his former sister-in-law had started, the once magnificent home was now almost in ruins; its roof bare and walls crumbling.

It didn't take much effort to get the grand entrance doors open and moments later he was inside the house of hell. Visiting here periodically when Anna was away wasn't nearly as painful as it was now, perhaps it was the condition of his childhood home or perhaps it was because he never thought he'd be forced back here but he knew the truth; the village had been too much for him.

The backroads around Pinon were one thing but to actually stand amongst his people again, the people he had turned his back on without a second thought…it was too much for him to bear.

And now, as he picked his way through rubble, he could feel the guilt kick in. He had left them. He, the Comte de la Fere, had left his people in the hands of a ruthless tyrant who was desperate to be higher than he was.

As he made his way to the second floor he couldn't fight the smile that blossomed when he began to actually hear the life that had once filled this place; the peals of laughter as he chased Thomas down the staircase and out into the sunlight, his mother's shouts of _Be careful_ and the adoration in his father's eyes as he chuckled at the sight.

Moving along the landing, it all came back to him; the sunlight streaming through the windows as he awkwardly chatted with a young Anna, desperate for an excuse to spend more time with the girl who had stolen his heart upon their first meeting.

And then he came to it; the room that held every horror this house had ever seen. The former living room was now black from floor to ceiling but Athos could see it only as it once was; the room where he had had his life ripped apart by its very seams…twice.

* * *

 _Desperate footsteps running up the staircase was the only sound in the entire house. They seemed to stretch on forever, the staircase suddenly ten times longer than usual as Athos and his brother shared a tense look._

" _What's happened?"_

 _Her hair was all over the place and her breathing laboured as Anna skidded around the corner and came to a stop in the parlour._

" _Athos? Thomas?"_

" _I'm so sorry, Anna." He wasn't even aware he had spoken until she let out a cry and began to crumple to the floor. He was there immediately, falling with her as she sobbed and wailed._

" _No!" She protested, fighting against his hold as she tried to stand. "No! She wouldn't leave me, she can't leave me!" He held her close, forcing her face to stay nestled into his shoulder to avoid the sight of her mother's body being carried from the house. "I've got no one else!" She sobbed._

" _You've got us." Thomas' voice was barely above a whisper as he joined them in the doorway, a hand on her back as sobs continued to wrack through her. "Just like we had you."_

 _Jacqueline Beauchamp was the last victim of the influenza that had ravaged the French countryside, claiming not just villagers but also the Comte and Comtesse de la Fere._

 _The mother and daughter had barely been at the house a year when the fever struck and one by one, the three children watched their parents be stolen from them._ _Suddenly they had all lost their childhood innocence, Athos more than anyone as out of nowhere he was the Comte de La Fere with all of the responsibility and none of the experience._

" _Stay with us." Athos insisted._

" _I can't." She mumbled, her sobs quieting slightly as the brothers embraced her. "I can't impinge on your-"_

" _Stay with us."_

 _The words were no longer a suggestion and suddenly Athos had carried out his first act since receiving his new title; he had built a family and was going to fight for them no matter what._

* * *

He couldn't believe that in this very room he had faced death twice, first his parents and then Thomas…how fitting for his brother to take his last breath in the very room where their childhood had been stolen from them.

"A sorry sight, isn't it?" He spun as a new voice filled the air and felt his eyes widen as the woman from the village stood before him; red hair falling from its braid and the pistol still in her hands.

"Catherine."

* * *

"They keep calling you; my Lady."

Anna's head snapped up as D'Artagnan's words made her jump. Glancing around the small inn, she realised the villagers had left them, likely moments ago, and that the Musketeers were the only ones still in the wooden space.

"Sorry?" She asked, shaking her head to rid her of the memories that had invaded her brain since first stepping foot onto the dusty ground.

"The villagers…" He elaborated. "…they keep calling you; my Lady."

"A habit I couldn't break them of." She explained, laughing at the curious expressions on all of their faces. "It was either; my Lady, or, Madame Comtesse." She told them reaching for the jug of wine to refill her cup. "And I couldn't exactly take a title that wasn't mine."

"How long did you live here?"

"Long enough." She sighed, rising from the chair she had claimed when Treville and Bertrand had spread out a map and plotted their rescue course.

"And how long were you and Ath-"

"I'd end that question there if I were you, Aramis." She fixed the Musketeer with a withering stare. "We're not here so I can recount my life story, we're here to rescue Jeanne and stop Renard." She reminded them. "Bertrand is counting on us to bring his daughter back, so anyone willing to stop playing 20 questions can meet me outside in 10 minutes.

"Aye, my Lady." She responded to Porthos' grin with a swift punch in the arm before striding out of the inn and into the sunlight.

"Would anyone else kill to hear their full story?" Aramis asked with a sigh as he drained his cup. "There's so much we don't know."

"We've all got secrets." Treville reminded him.

"But come on; Athos taking her as a mistress and not a wife?" Aramis mused. "Doesn't really seem his style." D'Artagnan nodded in agreement.

"And she doesn't strike me as the sort to go along with it." He added and Aramis hummed in agreement. "Maybe they just never got around to marrying?"

"It's none of our business." Treville silenced them with a warning stare before following Anna's path out the door. "Rescue the girl and we'll regroup back here to figure out stage 2."

"But still…" Aramis mused as they all stood.

"I'm all for her being asked…" Porthos told them. "…just as long as I don't have to do it." Aramis and D'Artagnan fixed him with raised eyebrows before he nodded to his upper arm. "That's going to leave a bruise and I'd rather her not attack anything more…vital."

The two Musketeers winced as the penny dropped in their minds and they each moved their hands lower to protect themselves.

"Agreed."

* * *

"When my father died his debts took everything, including the house." Catherine told him as she led him through the ruined chateau. "So, I packed everything I could carry, came back here expecting a semi-warm welcome and when I found the house in this state…" She gestured around her to the completely charred building. "…I moved into your servant's quarters."

He watched as she led him down into the lowermost area of the house and with a simple nudge on a partially burnt door, he was transported from the blackened estate to the still bright and habitable serving quarters.

He let his hand run over the unmarred walls and intact windows that allowed the light to flood the room. But underneath the gloriously unburnt quarters, he could see exactly how Catherine was living in the house; the room was littered with pots of herbs and from the ceiling hung pelts. The furniture was basic, as expected from serving quarters, and he wasn't exactly sure how she cooked down here; the main kitchen being situated on the other side of the ground floor.

"You live like this?"

"I survive." She corrected, a tense smile on her lips. "It's not quite what I was promised when I was betrothed to…" She trailed off, swallowing hard. "But I hunt and trap my own food." She gestured to the bow resting against the wall. "It's amazing what you can learn when you've run out of choices."

He nodded slowly, his hand absentmindedly running over the burns the ropes hanging him up in the village had left on his wrists.

"I can give you something for that." She nodded to the red marks as she moved to a small cupboard of pre-prepared herbs and began compiling a poultice.

"I saw you in the village." He told her. "But I didn't recognise you…the clothes are-"

"The height of fashion in Paris, or so I'm told." She smiled tightly.

"That was quite a shot you made." He complimented, choosing to skip over her comment.

"Thomas taught me to shoot." She told him, her smile relaxing at the mention of his brother. "Just as you taught him." She moved back to him and pressed the poultice to his worsts; the skin instantly cooling. "I was listening behind the inn: I heard what you said to Renard…about giving up your title." She looked up at him. "Is it true?"

He said nothing and she forced another sickly smile before stepping back and leading him into her small sitting room.

"She was nothing more than a common thief and a fraud." She spat. "How she convinced him to marry her…I'll never know."

"He loved her."

"He loved the idea of her!" She protested, her voice raising harshly. She took a breath as she realised he was watching her closely. "Raspberry brandy?" She offered, reaching for the bottle and gesturing for him to take a seat as she composed herself. "Not quite vintage, but it's good." She assured him as she handed him a glass. "To old times." She toasted.

"The one thing I can't drink to." He told her before sniffing the liquid.

"Was it all so bad?" She asked, leaning against a wall and staring down at him as he took a drink from the glass goblet. "We've known each other since we were children and there **were** happy times." She smiled. "Have you forgotten what our fathers wanted for us?" She asked coyly and Athos sighed.

"We were too young to be betrothed."

"We would have married." She told him adamantly. "But then she showed up and when your father saw how lovesick you were for her; the governess' daughter…" She sneered. "…and I was quietly passed on to Thomas." She took a drink and then let out a humourless laugh. "And then, in another cruel twist of fate, he fell in love and you; the new Comte, decided to let him marry the murderess!"

"You've been hurt too much because of me."

"Because of them." She corrected. "The women you deemed better than me." Her eyes were cold as she spoke. "I didn't see Antoinette in the village…got bored of you did she? Ran off with another soldier?" He felt his hand tighten around the glass. "Tell me, Athos, in all these years, has **my** suffering ever crossed your mind once?" She asked.

"If there's anything I can do to make this…" He gestured around them. "…better, please let me-"

"You could turn back time." She interrupted, her voice furious. "You could go back and see them as the whores they were!"

"Enough." His voice was low but she instantly silenced as she saw the warning in his gaze. "I'm sorry for your losses, Catherine, but there is nothing I can do to change them."

The room was silent as she digested his words before carefully and quietly asking her most important question.

"Are you going to stop Renard?"

"It's not my battle." The words were sour in his mouth now, every syllable felt like a punch to the gut as he recalled Anna's words.

"They might have killed you today." She noted, clearing fishing for another compliment.

"All the more reason to leave."

"I've no argument with the Baron." She told him. "All I want is to restore the estate to its proper place; to have something of my old life back…perhaps he can give me that."

"Renard can't be trusted."

"Who else can I trust? You?"

 _The Athos I know always fights against injustice…offer your own people the same courtesy_

Anna's words ran through his head as he stared up at Catherine and in that moment, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

"There's not enough powder or shot to frighten the birds, let alone Renard's men."

Anna sighed at Treville's update and slowed her pace to a stop as she ran a hand through her hair; the people of Pinon were farmers not soldiers and she should have known better than to expect them to keep some sort of armoury hidden beneath the village.

"If we trained them…" She began, addressing all of the Musketeers. "Could we make a go of it?" She looked from man to man as each mulled the thought over.

"Not unless the Baron is willing to wait a couple of years." She let out a defeated sigh at Porthos' words and nodded slowly.

"There are no horses, no swords and no firearms." Treville told her. "They have literally nothing but farming equipment."

"How much would we need?" She asked, an idea forming in her mind.

"At least one pistol each and enough powder to power it."

"And if I could get that…" She turned to Aramis. "…you could teach them?"

"With a couple of hours and enough powder going spare…" She looked hopefully up at him and he conceded. "…yes."

"Okay then." She clapped her hands together. "You said the Baron's hunting lodge was only about three leagues west?" She asked Aramis and Porthos who nodded. "Excellent, you two go and rescue Jeanne and I'll…" She took a breath. "…I'll go up to the house and bring back what I can."

"The house?"

"There's a store of weapons and powder there and -"

"We'll need a lot." Porthos cut across her. "How much is there?"

"Enough to make a fight of it."

Anna felt her spine straighten as a new voice joined the conversation. She watched as the faces of her gathered Musketeers broke out into smiles and took a second before turning and coming face to face with Athos.

"You came back." She observed. "What made you change your mind?"

"I heard a compelling argument from a former resident." He raised an eyebrow at her and she scoffed.

"So compelling you rode off in a huff?"

"Do you want to get the weapons or do you want to stand here and chat?"

She grinned slightly at his stubbornness and turned back to the men.

"Okay, new plan…"

* * *

The forest bordering the Baron de Louviers hunting lodge was dense, with fallen stumps and vines masking the natural path of the forest floor and forcing the three Musketeers to tread very carefully as they approached the lodge.

"When you say; burnt to a crisp…" Anna began, as they led their horses to the edge of the land. "…what exactly do you mean?"

"Milady de Winter set to fire to it with Athos still inside." Aramis told her, very much regretting starting this conversation.

"And why exactly, did she do that?" The two men exchanged a look before shrugging at her.

"It was D'Artagnan who pulled him out." Porthos said. "All he told us was that she set the place on fire, knowing he was in there."

"And remind me why you there?"

"This one got shot while we were tracking down a merchant." Aramis nodded to the burly Musketeer at his side.

"Bonnaire was a slaver." Porthos corrected. "We were on our way back from Le Havre when it happened and well… we were nearby so he brought us here."

"And the trip ended with my former home being burnt to the ground by the woman who married and then killed his brother?"

"Pretty much." Porthos grinned, glad that the woman between them was not currently on the verge of tears at the thought of her home being reduced to rubble.

"One more th-"

"Shhhh." Aramis' warning cut her off and instantly she and Porthos were on high alert as the lodge came closer into view and they moved their horses, as quietly as possible, to the rear of the building.

"To village whores and farmer's daughters!" Anna sneered at the toast that was responded to with cheers from inside the house.

Aramis nodded towards an unguarded entry and it took mere seconds for them to cross the small patch of land between them and the house and slip inside. The hunting lodge was filled with chants and cheers as the men prepared for what Anna suspected would be a wholly disgusting affair if they got their hands on Jeanne.

Silently, they made their way up onto the second story of the lodge and after a quick hand-signal from Aramis; they split up to investigate each room they passed.

Anna was sticking her head into an empty cupboard space when a whispered _I've got her_ reached her ears. She crept as quietly and quickly as possible to the room where Porthos and Aramis were trying to calm the girl as she fought her restraints.

"Jeanne!" Her voice was louder than she hoped as she laid eyes on the girl, but the continuous chanting from below covered her. "Jeanne, it's me." She pushed past the men who the girl had mistakenly taken as the Baron's men, and moved towards her.

She watched as the girl's muffled cries stopped and her eyes widened.

"We're here to save you." She promised, pulling a dagger from her belt and cutting at the ropes holding her to the bed. "We're taking you home."

The chanting grew louder and a slurry of curses tumbled from Aramis as he stuck his head out into the corridor and saw the Baron's men begin to filter out and line the staircase.

"Remind me what the back-up plan was?"

* * *

It was shocking really, how easy it was to convince the Baron and his men that they'd escaped. Anna had called them both mad when Aramis and Porthos had suggested the plan but, as the chants grew louder, she had had no choice but to give in.

And as they galloped away from the hunting lodge, she had to give it to them and their quick thinking.

"I didn't think it would work." Porthos laughed as they slowed their horses once far enough away from the lodge.

"You're telling me that there was a chance we could've all died?" She asked incredulously as Jeanne laughed from her seat behind her on the saddle.

"But we didn't, my Lady!" Aramis grinned at Jeanne's words.

"We're just lucky that centuries of in-breeding has made the aristocracy stupid." He agreed.

"No offence." Porthos smirked at her.

"You, Porthos du Vallon, clearly have a death wish." Aramis laughed as Anna threatened to get off her horse and show exactly how much of a lady she was with the assistance of her pistol.

* * *

"So what really made you change your mind?" D'Artagnan asked as he watched Athos retrieve a small key from a drawer in the empty servants' quarters of the chateau.

"She was right..." He told him, moving to a cabinet that once was full of china. "…whatever happened here, the people of Pinon are not to blame; they shouldn't suffer because of me."

He slotted the key into the back of the cabinet and with one turn a locked clicked. Grinning, he slid his hands behind it and pulled, revealing a secret passage.

"Every nobleman had to raise a local militia in times of war." He told him as they entered the passageway and descended deep below the house. "My father kept a secret armoury…" He led them to an iron gate and used the same key to open the old lock. "…and I kept the tradition." He flung open the gate to reveal a tomb filled with swords and crates of pistols.

D'Artagnan entered ahead of him, holding up a small lantern to inspect the haul. He kicked up a rapier from its holding and practised a few moves with it, grinning at Athos when it passed its test.

"A little battered, but just about serviceable." Athos murmured as he threw back the sheet covering a crate of pistols and examined one.

"Are you talking about yourself or the pistol?" D'Artagnan joked as Athos rolled his eyes at the Musketeer he still saw as a boy and not a soldier.

"It was always a good, dry cellar so the powder won't have spoiled." He told him, gesturing to the barrels, but turned when D'Artagnan said nothing. He heaved a sigh when he saw what had taken his attention. "The family vault." He moved to stand beside him at the stone slab which held the names of the dead. "My ancestors…" He gestured to the walls which were also lined with names and dates. "…a dozen generations or so."

"Is that…?"

D'Artagnan gestured to the name closest to them and watched as Athos wiped away the layer of dust that coated the final resting place of his brother.

"Yes." His voice was broken again as he traced the letters of a name he would never forget before shaking himself and being grateful that Anna had not joined him; the sight of Thomas' tomb was one she swore she would never see. "Is the powder good?" He asked, shaking himself.

"I think so."

"Then let's get out of here." He picked up a barrel of the stuff and led the way back upstairs and out to the wagon they had borrowed from the village.

The pair made several trips up and down to the cellar until the wagon held all it could. A part of Athos was saddened to see his father's prized armoury being used to fight a greedy Baron and not the war the old man had intended it for, but rationalizing current need over an unlikely war, he loaded pistol after pistol and rapier after rapier onto the cart.

"That's all of the gunpowder." He told D'Artagnan as he placed the last barrel onto the wagon.

He double checked the contents of the cart and was mid count when a not-so-subtle throat clear from D'Artagnan caught his attention. He glanced up to the boy who had taken his seat at the front of the cart and turned around as he nodded behind him.

"Ah." He mused as a woman who had been surprisingly absent from the serving quarters stepped out. "D'Artagnan, allow me to introduce my childhood friend and former betrothed; Catherine de Garouville."

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to greet the woman when she cut across him.

"Is he a Musketeer too?" D'Artagnan angled o show her the pauldron on his shoulder and she sneered. "From the Comte de la Fere to a common soldier…" She stepped forward and picked at Athos' cloak. "…it makes no sense."

"It makes sense to me." Athos told her, pushing her hands away from him. "More than anything else."

"So you are going to fight Renard?" She asked, stepping back and crossing her arms, hoping D'Artagnan missed the subtle rejection.

"Come with us." Athos offered. "You'll be better off with the other villagers."

"Don't confuse me with them." She spat. "I wasn't born to this life."

"Forgive me…I was simply thinking of your safety." He told her as he turned back to the wagon to resume counting.

"I can look after myself." She told him adamantly as he nodded to himself and climbed up into the seat beside D'Artagnan.

"Oh." He stopped him from ushering the horses on. "There's something you should know…" He leant slightly so he was eye level with the red-head. "…Helene is still alive; she lives in Paris and is mistress to the King." He watched her eyes go wide before adding. "And Anna is currently rescuing the innkeeper's daughter from Renard, after we protect the town, we will return to Paris where she and I live together." He sat up straight, moving his eyes from her. "She is more my wife than you will ever be."

"They ruined my life!" She seethed as he settled on the wooden bench. "Destroyed all my hope and dreams!" She tried to make him face her. "Your brothers murderer still breathes and-"

"And if you so much as utter the word whore again…you'll find yourself much worse off than those you do not wish to be confused with."

With the click of his tongue the horses were moving and the pair of Musketeer's rolled away from a seething Catherine.

"Admit it…" D'Artagnan turned to his mentor. "…that felt good."

"I should have left when I had the chance."

"But then your…wife…" He coughed to hide a grin as Athos glared at him. "…Would never have forgiven you."

"Just drive the damn cart."

* * *

The sun was ow in the sky as they rode back into Pinon. They had barely crossed the threshold of the village before shouts of _Jeanne's back_ filled the air. They came to a stop in the centre of the town and Porthos was off his saddle in an instant and helping the girl to the ground.

"You brought my Jeanne home!" Bertrand exclaimed as he rushed to meet his daughter. Anna smiled gently as he encased the girl in a hug, squeezing her tightly as thought to make sure she were real. "Did they hurt you?" He asked, holding her out at arm's length to inspect her.

"No." She sighed.

"Thank God you're safe." He pulled her to him again. "Thank you, my Lady." He inclined his head to Anna as the woman watched from her saddle.

"Renard won't come in the dark." Aramis told Treville as the man stepped out to greet them. "Not across marshy ground…but he'll come."

"Drinks for everyone!" Bertrand's cry carried around the gathered village as each person waiting to embrace Jeanne and Anna fought a laugh as Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look of glee before following the man inside the small inn.

"Thank you." Anna glanced back down to her horse's side as Jeanne peered up at her. "I hoped you'd get the message as well but…I wasn't sure if you were still…" She trailed off as Anna swung down from her saddle.

"Athos is a good man." She told the girl as she took her arm and allowed her to lead her towards the tavern. "His intentions were honourable but…he should know better than to keep something like this from me."

"I know you've always denied it, my Lady…" Jeanne began as a cloud of dust reached the village again and settled to reveal a cart driven by two Musketeers entering the town. "…but you've always been our Comtesse."

* * *

The inn was packed to the brim as the whole village waited for their Comte to speak. Drinks were flowing happily between people and Anna smiled as she even saw Treville take a turn behind the bar.

She was currently perched on a rickety stool at the back of the inn, keeping an eye on her Musketeers as they drank and chatted with the locals. An easy smile found its way onto her lips as she noted how easily they fitted in here and wondered, very briefly, what life would be like if they all stayed here and never returned to the dangerous streets of Paris.

The thought was quashed, however, after one look in D'Artagnan's eyes and she realised how much he missed his beloved even when they were in the same city, never mind being a day's ride apart.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the rear entrance opened and Athos strolled in. The reaction was automatic; the villagers quieted while the Musketeers all rose and flocked to the empty table he sat at. The villagers weren't completely silent as the five-some settled but Anna noted how they eyed the table of soldiers and the fact that they seemed to be conversing using only their eyes and facial expressions, warily.

"It's true…" The room silenced completely as Athos turned to the crowd after receiving long stares from his comrades. "…I left without a word and never gave a thought to your fate." He paused. "But you have made my absence a reason to surrender responsibility for your own lives."

"What future do we have without the protection of a lord?" Jeanne asked and Anna smirked at her spirit. "What choice, when our lives are not our own?"

"Then take Renard; let him have the land and you with it. Exchange one noble name for another." He sighed. "Your attachment to my family is touching, but it is no longer practical.

"This land belongs to you." She protested.

"It can **rot** for all I care."

"But it's our home - everything we know." Bertrand protested, moving from the bar to stand with his daughter.

"Then **take** it." He rose to face the man and the whole village. "I've no use for it: **I give it to you**."

She let out a breath at his words and wished she had not finished her drink before his arrival.

"Face down Renard, defend the village and the land that your family has worked for generations, will be yours." He told them.

"Listen to me, all of you…" Treville rose to stand with his Lieutenant as he addressed the crowd. "…in any war, you have two choices…you can sue for peace on the best terms you can get, or, you can fight." He let the word hang in the air before continuing. "If you choose to fight, we will stand with you. But ask yourselves: is your cause worth dying for?"

"We're dying already." Bertrand reminded him.

"How can we defeat Renard and his men? We're not soldiers." Treville turned to the villager who had spoken.

"You are defending your homes, your children... your **lives**. You have something worth fighting for. Do they? If you choose to make a stand, be here at sun up."

"And he says he's not Captain." Anna scoffed as the villagers dispersed to their beds for the night. "Liar."

* * *

She didn't want to leave the inn.

It was honestly that simple; she didn't want to leave the building and for once it wasn't because she wanted to stay in bed rather than stand in the dust at dawn waiting for the villager of Pinon to make up their minds about fighting Renard.

No, today it was because Jeanne had woken with her and the female Musketeer, who had rightfully earnt her place in the regiment by fighting men double her size, was powerless to resist the girl as she forced her into a chair and made her sit while she did her hair.

" _I've been practicing."_ She had said as she twisted the hair and pinned it in place. _"In case you came back one day for your wedding and needed me."_

Anna had swallowed hard at that; forcing her lips shut and not ruining the moment the girl had obviously longed for. She couldn't tell her that marriage wasn't on the cards for them, not after all this time, and she wasn't even sure if he wanted it anyway…so she sat and smiled and watched as she transformed from a soldier back into a lady.

The worst part had been when she produced a dress from the trunk at the foot of her bed. Actually, the worst part had been not arguing the corset.

And so, that's how she currently found herself; all dolled up like the princess she had longed to be as a child, and loitering in the doorway of the inn.

"They're not coming." She rested her head against the wood as she heard Aramis' sighed remark.

"You can hardly blame them." D'Artagnan added and she let out a groan of frustration at the people.

"They've made their decision." Athos drawled and she finally had to agree with him; maybe coming back hadn't been such a good idea.

For instance, if she had stayed behind like Treville had wanted, she wouldn't currently be hiding from her brothers-in-arms because she was dressed as a version of herself that they had never encountered.

Five sets of footsteps drew closer to the inn's entrance and she held her breath, desperately hoping that someone, anyone would show so they would stumble upon her.

"Wait!" She released the breath as Treville stopped them. "Just you?" Her heart sank as she realised that just one person from the whole of Pinon had arrived ready to fight for their home.

"Please God." She whispered, hoping that the people would see sense and not leave themselves open to the Baron.

"Looks like we're staying." A laugh escaped her as Porthos' words reached her ears and Jeanne and her father strolled past her and into the light. "Just one question…how do we turn this bunch of misfits into a fighting force?"

She sent a prayer of thanks upwards but her moment of joy was short lived as a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her from the inn. She stepped into the sunlight as Porthos spoke again:

"Just one question…how do we turn this bunch of misfits into a fighting force?"

"If you can do it Porthos, anyone can." Aramis laughed at her statement and turned to her, his laugh dying as she shook Jeanne's hand from her arm and stepped further into the square, her head held high as her skirts swished.

"Jeanne?" Athos asked, his eyes gleaming with a smile as she came to a rest beside him.

"I don't know where she learnt to be so unarguable." She rolled her eyes as his smile deepened and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You boys never seen a lady in a dress before?"

She called over her shoulder, well aware that the jaws of Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan were still slack at her transformation.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" She huffed, rolling her eyes once again at them before bringing her fingers to her lips and letting out a whistle. "Let's get started."

* * *

The village square was as she had never seen it before; the Musketeers had spread out to form three distinct stations: Aramis and D'Artagnan at a make-shift shooting range, Treville had the strongest and was running through a set of lunges and protective stances with wooden poles and Athos and Porthos were running workshops on preparing pistols and reloading shots.

In her hand, was a rough map of Pinon that she had been sketching quietly as she let the men carry on with their lessons.

Truth be told, she was hoping to decipher a way of having the villagers fire as little shots as possible with no need for hand-to-hand combat, and judging by their progress with the Musketeers…that was definitely the way to go.

And so she planned and strategized and as she watched another group fall from the recoil of the pistols, a plan formed and she rushed off to make it real.

"This is where we make our stand." She told Treville as they stood side-by-side at one entrance to Pinon.

"Good." He eyed the villagers as they carried every item they could think of out of their homes and across the gateway. "They have to come to us."

"Exactly." She beamed. "I've had them block off the other entrances and so the barricades should hold to the south and west, and with water to the north, they've no choice but to take this path and we simply keep sending them back until they're exhausted."

"Good plan." He commended. "I remember why I hired you."

"You hired me because I pinned a man to the floor of your Garrison in under a minute." She reminded him with a wink before stepping out and calling: "We need everything you can find; chair, tables, barrels, baskets – if it's not nailed down we need it here, now!"

"They respond to you." She jumped as Athos appeared at her side.

"They respond to the dress and hair." She corrected. "I think I'm starting to see why Jeanne did this." She picked at the material. "They needed some sort of figure-head to reassure them that they still matter; you're too far gone; messy hair and soldier clothes…" She let her finger gently brush the loose strands of hair from his forehead. "…but I must be salvageable."

"I'd say you're far more than that." He smiled, an arm coming to rest upon her shoulders. "Look at what you've achieved; you united them to fight for their land."

"I seem to remember it was you standing in the middle of the inn, not me."

"But who's the one that made me stay?" He asked with a knowing grin that caused her to roll her eyes. "I need to talk to you about something, well, about Pinon." He told her, his eyes alight with a plan. "I want your blessing before I sign this all over to…" He trailed off as his eyes caught a figure moving towards them. "I wasn't sure you'd come." Athos' tone changed from playful to formal in a heartbeat and Anna glanced up to see who he was addressing.

"From what I've seen of these people, you need all the help you can get." Anna felt her jaw tighten as the red-head approaching them opened her mouth.

It was no secret that Catherine de Garouville and Antoinette Beauchamp were not the best of friends. The air around them seemed to thicken as each woman identified the other and while Catherine's hold on a small pouch tightened, so did Anna's on the edge of her lover's shirt.

"Catherine."

"Anna."

The villagers slowed as they watched the woman tersely greet each other.

"Here." The red-head broke first and held out the pouch in her hand. "The last few treasures I have left are in there." She told Anna as the blonde took the pouch.

"Thank you." Anna bit out. "I'll have them kept safe for you."

"Where do you need me?"

"Bad blood between them two?" Porthos asked as they watched Anna direct the red-headed stranger to a spot on the barricade.

"That's Athos' former betrothed." D'Artagnan informed him and heard Aramis whistle lightly under his breath.

"Oh she was far more than that." The three men turned to face Jeanne as the girl watched the woman take a spot between some villagers. "Just before the previous Comte died, he broke the engagement and told his son that he could marry whoever he wanted, and when he chose the governess' daughter over that of a Lord, well, Mademoiselle de Garouville spent her every stay at the house trying to break them up and force her out." She said with a sneer before smiling at the men and joining her father.

"Did she just say; governess' daughter?" D'Artagnan asked as they watched Anna return to the inn, likely to change into something more battle appropriate.

"The plot thickens."

* * *

The barricade was slowly filling with villagers as they emptied the last of their furniture from their homes before arming themselves with their weapon of choice from the crates in the centre of the square.

Athos watched with a smile as the pistols were expertly packed and the residents of the usually sleepy town, took up arms to protect their livelihood.

"You know what really hurts, Athos?" The Musketeer turned as Catherine claimed the empty spot beside him and began packing her pistol. "You never once tried to find out that happened to me."

"I suppose I thought you'd left town." He mused, his own hands working unconsciously to ready his shots. "Married, perhaps."

"My father's debt, no land, no dowry and the taint of being passed over twice…eligible men suddenly me less than desirable."

"They were wrong." He stopped checking his weaponry to look her dead in the eyes, hoping that he could convey some sincerity; after all, she was his childhood friend. "Perhaps when I sign the land over…" He stopped a small smile on his lips as he spoke. "…I forgot; I haven't told you of my plans." He opened his mouth once more to begin to explain his hopes for this town but was quickly interrupted by a shot firing and the screams of a man.

"To your stations!" Treville's shout echoed through the village as women ruched to the wounded villager but couldn't reach as he lay slumped atop the barricade.

"What happened?" In a flash, Anna was at his side; clad in the Musketeer uniform she had ridden here in and pistols hanging from her waist.

"They're here." He knew that was all he had to say and in and instant she was up on a crate, her pistols already firing as men clad in the Baron's favoured red uniforms appeared in the undergrowth.

"Athos…" Catherine began as the blonde jumped back to the ground and Athos took her place as she readied more shots. "…do you really mean that?"

"Keep your head down!" Anna shouted to her, watching in horror as the woman almost had her head blown off.

"Athos!"

"Catherine." Anna grabbed the woman's hand and Athos knew this was going one of two ways. "You came here to help us; if you have no intention of doing that and instead plan to distract us all by getting your pretty little head shot at, leave." The female Musketeer's voice was low and full of warning as she spoke to the noble woman. "Otherwise, ready your pistol and shoot the dammed thing!"

"Hold!" Treville's order was clear as shots rang out from the forestry; the Baron's men hiding themselves well as they simply shot at the barricade and hoped for casualties. "I said hold!" He shouted as the gung-ho villagers readied their pistols and aimed again. "You can't shoot what you can't see! You're just wasting ammunition!" He told them and the pistols lowered. "He's trying to see how many guns we have."

"I'm going to get Albert." Anna turned to Athos, the decision clear in her mind and she gestured to the fallen man atop the barricade. Taking a step back she called to her brother's in arms and shouted to the trained Musketeers. "Cover me!"

"Always."

The pair shared a tense smile before the blonde took off, slowly climbing the rear of the barricade and keeping an eye out for any of the Baron's men as she passed gaps in the structure.

"Ready?" She called behind her as her head neared the top of the wooden structure. She took a deep breath before hauling herself up and onto the top of it as gun shots rang out around her Wobbling slightly, she made her way to Albert and with one quick heave, the man, who judging by his shallow breaths was still alive, was falling into the arms of the villagers below.

"Anna!" She turned as her name was called and the absolute fear in Athos' eyes told her one thing; they were out of shots and had no time to reload.

It happened in the fraction of a second and suddenly, she was facing the hidden men, her eyes scouring the tree line as a single shot rang out. She took one more breath before allowing her weight to take her as she fell from her crouch and hoped to God that someone was there to catch her.

There was.

And a whoosh of air later she was letting out a grateful laugh as Porthos' strong arms cradled under her as she lay in them, her legs dangling over one side as he supported her back in a traditional bridal hold.

"Why do you always fall in my section?" He asked, his tone light but his eyes full of concern as he carried her away from the barricade before placing her back on her feet.

"Gotta keep your reactions quick." She teased, patting his chest in thanks as she tucked her fallen hair behind her ears and groaned at the thought of Jeanne's hard work on the intricate hairstyle being ruined. "Did I get him?" She asked, nodding to the top of the structure she had been crouched atop.

"Course you did." He chuckled. "Almost gave Aramis a heart attack when he realised what you were up to, but you got him." He nodded to the inn where a group of villagers had carried the man to.

"Thanks, Porthos." She took his hand and squeezed it gently before turning and catching the eyes of Athos as he stared at her. "I'm fine." She knew her voice would carry to him, and one slow blink from the man let her know that he heard her. "I'm fine."

* * *

"Have you seen Anna?" Athos asked as he stuck his head inside the inn, hoping D'Artagnan would know of the woman's whereabouts.

"Up there." The boy nodded to the staircase with a smile and Athos took off, practically running up them now he had been relieved from his post at the barricade. Rounding at the top, he strode past a variety of empty rooms before footsteps told him exactly where he needed to be.

"Sometimes, I'm sure you have a death wi-" He cut himself off as he realised the woman stood in the room was not Anna but Catherine. "My apologies." He began, stepping backwards from the room. "I was looking for-"

"You must think me very foolish and vain." She interrupted, nodding to the necklace she held at her throat. "It was my mother's and I never thought I'd get the chance to wear it again." She told him, her fingers rubbing over the string of pearls that ended in an amber stone. "Would you?"

"Of course." He stepped back into the room and made his way to her, relieving her of the necklace ties and knotting them gently as she stared ahead into the blurry mirror before her.

"It's the one think I couldn't bear to let go." She smiled as he released its weight and it nestled against the skin of her chest. "I always dreamed I'd wear it on the day I became mistress of a noble house…the day I was restored to my proper position."

He smiled lightly at her, watching as she studied herself in the mirror. He made to move from the room once again, hoping to find Anna before the woman ran off to perform more gymnastics on the barricade.

"Do you ever wish you'd chosen me?" She asked, halting him in his escape. "Or at least not let Thomas throw me aside?"

He was silent as she waited for his answer, hoping the conviction in his eyes and the set of his jaw told her all she needed to know.

"Even after everything that happened…you'd still let him marry her?"

"He loved her." He told her again. "As much as it pains me to say…he loved her and would have married her with or without my blessing."

"Would he, Athos?" She asked, her voice filled with hatred and rejection. "Because the Thomas I knew, the one we grew up with, would never go against your word." She stared at him cruelly. "But perhaps if his role model hadn't welcomed a common whore into his bed and spent his days rolling around with her and letting her call herself the Comtesse…he would still be here."

"Anna never called herself the Comtesse." It was his turn to be furious now; he had let her say her piece for two days straight and could take it no more. "It was you who did that." He couldn't stand there and project her lies any longer. "My brother and I never loved you; that's the simple truth. You were nothing more than a girl who sometimes came to stay and my father only told of our betrothal when he called it off." He watched as the woman before him began to crumble under the truth of his words. "I don't know what fantasies you concocted, Catherine, but you were never going to be the mistress of that house as long as there was breath in my body."

"I never pegged you as cruel, Athos."

"And I never thought you to be a vicious liar." He stepped back allowing her to turn and face him and not his reflection. "You never cared about the people, Catherine, whether they lived here or served you at the house; you never cared."

"And you cared so much that you left them without so much as a goodbye." She laughed humourlessly. "At least you're doing the right thing now though; I'll look after them in your absence, and I'll learn from your mistake; my people won't be left without a ruler."

"Catherine, what are you talking about?" He was worried now. He knew Anna would be ecstatic when he told her of his plans but Catherine didn't seem to be understanding his intentions. "I'm signing the land-"

"D'Artagnan said you were looking for me?" Athos turned as his favourite blonde appeared in the doorway, her leather jerkin open after being looked over by the village women and deemed healthy enough to fight after her stunt.

"Yes." He turned back to Catherine, eyeing the woman carefully as she turned to admire her reflection once more, a smug smile firmly planted on her lips. "We need to talk about Pinon." He told her, moving to join her in the doorway.

"Don't worry, Antoinette, I'll be the Comtesse you never could be."

"What is she-" Athos cut the blonde off as he wrapped an arm around her own and pulled her away into a room as far from the red-head as possible. "Tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to do, Athos."

"Don't worry." He cast his eyes back through the open door to the room where they could hear Catherine humming. "I'm not."

* * *

The six Musketeers were gathered at the barricade discussing their next plan of action when two sets of hoofs caught their attention.

"What the-"

"Renard." Treville answered Porthos' un-asked question as he peered through a gap. "And his son." Anna sneered at the mention of the Baron's raping child. "He's waving a white flag." He told them dryly.

"You've got to be kidding." Anna snorted as she and Athos shared a look before climbing the barricade and perching on its top.

"I thought we might avoid any further unpleasantness." The Baron explained their presence as he pocketed blew his nose into the flimsy white handkerchief he had been waving.

"Go on."

"Since you seem so determined to renounce your God-given nobility, sign over your lands to Edmond in perpetuity and I'm willing to spare these poor folk." The Baron offered, his smile betraying the threat in his words.

"Take the offer or you all **die**!"

"My dear words may lack elegance…" Renard glared at his boy and Edmond silenced. "…but his sentiment holds true."

Anna and Athos exchanged a look and after a few distinctive facial expressions and a shrug or two, they faced the pair again.

"As enticing as that sounds…" Anna mused.

"…The land is no longer is mine." Athos told him with a smirk as Jeanne and Bertrand appeared between them, pistols very at home in their hands.

"The land belongs to us now!" Jeanne shouted, the villagers cheering as the news hit the Baron.

"To all of us!" Her father added with a grin.

"I have given the estate over to its people." Athos explained.

"So you see…" Anna sighed. "…there's nothing we could do even if we wanted to."

"And you're trespassing on our land!" Jeanne told him, her voice full of glee.

"You mean to give the land to them?" Catherine asked, her voice barely carrying to the top of the barricade as Anna and Athos glanced down to her.

"Of course." Athos voice was full of confusion at her shock. "To everyone…you included." Anna fought a smile as the pistol dropped from the red-heads hand and she stalked away, her face full of fury.

"You'd hand this rabble your birth-right to defy me?" Renard shouted but only Athos turned to face him, Anna's eyes still trained on the storming woman.

"I have made my choice and with the full backing of my household." Athos told him, his hand coming to rest on Anna's shoulder as she turned back to them.

"You let him do this?" The Baron asked her. "What would your father say if he knew how far you'd fallen, eh?" The hand on her shoulder tightened as Athos fought to hold her down as rage began to fill her. "You know, all you've got to do is climb down from that silly barricade and maybe I'll let Edmond have a go at you…might even make you his wife."

"Turn around Renard." Athos called out. "Turn around before you say something you'll regret."

"Daughter of the Comte de Poitiers turned common whore, yes, I'm sure he'd be so very pr-"

A gunshot cut him off and the Baron's eyes widened as they closed in on the pistol in her hand.

"That was a warning shot." She told him lowly as he noted the perfect circle now in the centre of his handkerchief. "A courtesy to my father's name…but I'm not Mademoiselle de Poitiers anymore; I'm a soldier and we shoot to kill."

* * *

"Remember your discipline!" Treville called out as the Baron and his son rode away, curses flowing from their lips as Anna jumped from the barricade, refusing to so much as glance at anyone. "Think like soldiers and you cannot lose!" He told the people as he and his Musketeers kept their eyes on the woman currently kicking a wagon wheel in frustration.

"I'm fine." She didn't turn as Athos' footfalls neared her. "Let's just get this over with." She snapped the barrel of her pistol into place before finally turning and locking eyes with the Musketeer. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm going to break." She shouldered past him and towards her place at the barricade. "I've handled much worse than the Baron and his high-brow beliefs."

"You're sure you're okay?" He asked, joining her at the barricade.

"I'm not Mademoiselle de Garouville, Athos; I don't run when someone says something I don't like." She offered him a tense smile as she lifted the pistol and peered through a gap in the structure. "I'm a Musketeer."

Silence fell over the village as the people held their positions behind the barricade. Anna's eyes were focused entirely on the view from her spot and felt her finger twitch as she prepared herself for the onslaught about to hit them.

And hit them it did.

The Baron's men lunged from the tree line, their pistols aimlessly firing at the village while Treville shouted for them to _hold, hold, hold your positions_. Her breathing slowed and within an instant she was heart and soul in this battle for Pinon, no jumped-up Baron was taking this from the people; her people.

"Fire!"

Her finger responded immediately to the command and she watched as man after man dropped from the well placed shots from Pinon.

"Reload!"

She handed her pistols back to the woman stood behind her and Athos and received two fresh one in return.

She needn't be told again and almost in sync, five shots rang out from vantage points across the barricade and she knew that each precise projectile would find its target; that's why they were called Musketeers after all.

They had only disposed of a fraction of the Baron's bloodthirsty men and as they neared the barricade she heard a rapier slid from its' holding and felt a smile twitch at her lips as the best swordsman in the regiment all but flew at them, his steel no match for their lack of skill.

"Retreat, men!" She fired one last shot as the Baron's men fled from the scene and watched, a sadistic smile on her face as another fell from her shot.

"Tend to the wounded and repair the barricade." Treville shouted to the people as they jumped into action, grabbing whatever they could find to plug the holes. "Load up the muskets and be ready to regroup…it's not over yet."

* * *

They had been fortunate; the Baron's men had dropped like flies and while some villagers sustained minor injuries; their numbers were strong…the same couldn't be said for the Baron.

Anna watched as Aramis and D'Artagnan ventured out into the field the men had crossed and began digging small holes, perfect for housing barrels of gunpowder.

"Have you seen this work?" She was with Aramis on this one; the plan seemed risky – there were too many things that could go wrong.

"I've never seen it not work." D'Artagnan told him and with a simple shrug, Aramis stamped down the dirt and the pair returned to the safety of the barricade.

"Explain to me one more time what that's going to do." She said as they approached her.

"We shoot at the mounds…" D'Artagnan pointed to the small pile soft dirt that signified the placement of the barrels. "…if the shot goes though the wood, the gunpowder ignites and-"

"Boom." Aramis offered.

"If." She stressed the word. "I'm trusting you here, D'Artagnan." She patted the boy on the shoulder. "That was the last of our gunpowder so if there's no…" She looked to Aramis. "…boom…then we're in trouble."

"Don't panic." Aramis slung an arm across her shoulders. "D'Artagnan's chock full of battle experience and…oh wait…"

"Hilarious, Aramis." She elbowed him in the side as he laughed. "Hilarious."

* * *

They came bursting from the tree line again and Anna had to give it to the baron's men for their dedication. At last count they were going to be burying a significant number but they carried on, charging at the barricade.

But not a shot was fired at Pinon and Anna watched as confusion began to mar their features, their legs slowly slightly as they realised there was no fight. She head Treville give the order to D'Artagnan and, chewing on her lip nervously, she watched as shots rang out from the men.

She released a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding when the plan went off without a hitch; the barrels igniting and, as Aramis had aptly put it; BOOM.

Those left standing were disoriented for a moment giving the Musketeers enough time to leap over the barricade and meet them, steel at the ready, in the field.

They were cut down effortlessly; the Musketeer blades slicing through their pitiful armour as though it were butter on a hot night and Anna knew that the villagers peering out would heave sighs of relief as the six whirled their way around the men; striking every weak spot until none were left standing.

Silence fell again as they regained their breaths, the ground littered with the Baron's men either badly burnt or bleeding. They shared tense smiles as they calmed themselves; adrenaline still pumping through their veins and spurring them on.

"Athos!" They'd all heard him approaching but none paid Edmond any attention as he stalked towards them; an unmarked breastplate shining proudly in the sun as his hands gripped the hilt of both his blade and the dagger in his left hand.

The Musketeer met him willingly and the five remaining Musketeers stood back as the boy lunged and darted, hoping to confuse the experienced Musketeer. It seemed effortless; the way Athos lifted his rapier and parried with the man-child, his complicated twists knocking the dagger from his hands easily before stepping back, observing that they were now equally armed.

The fight that ensued was quick and Edmond was on the floor in less than a minute; the boy having stumbled his way through the attack. Athos stepped back as they boy rolled before clambering to his feet.

"Come on!" Athos urged as the boy collected his dagger rom the ground and resumed his fighting stance.

The clash of steel against steel was the only noise and Anna looked away from the fight for only a second; her eyes connecting with the Baron's as he watched his son with pitying eyes. Sending the old man a slow smirk, she returned her attention to the men only to find Edmond pinned to the floor, his blades nowhere in sight as Athos' rested against his neck.

"Go on then." His breathing was laboured as he felt the cool sting against his throat. "What are you waiting for?"

"Don't tempt me." The Musketeer warned, his blade still at his throat as tried to decide on his next action; should he kill the lad or not?

He was a Musketeer; weren't in the habit of killing greedy nobles and yet…as he watched the boy squirm all he could hear were reasons to kill him; tried to rape Jeanne, would kill for a plot of land…would teach the Baron a lesson.

"Drop your sword Athos." A new voice joined them and Anna's hand went straight for her pistol as Catherine strolled towards the former Comte, her own gun outstretched and aiming straight at him.

The Musketeer complied as he stared down the barrel of the smoking gun and flung his rapier to one side.

"I can live with your decision to bed her over wedding me." She nodded towards Anna who was currently itching for a reason to shoot the red-head. "But I can't breathe in a world where Thomas' murder still lives…if you won't do anything about it, I will."

"She's the King's mistress." He reminded her. "None of us can touch her."

"What will you give me for him?" She asked Edmond, the boy still lying on the floor.

"I…uh…"

"I thought you meant to give me my life back." She returned her attention to Athos as the boy glanced to his father. "That at least would have been some compensation…but you deceived me there too." Her jaw tightened and she nodded to the Baron's boy once more. "Perhaps he can give me what I deserve."

"Put the gun down…" Athos' eyes flickered over Catherine's shoulder as a pistol cocked. "…or I'll definitely give you what you deserve." He watched as Catherine's jaw tightened and she turned her head slightly to glare at Anna.

"Why is it always you who gets in my way?"

"I'm a Musketeer…" Anna reminded her. "…It's in the job description to stop mad women waving guns at my comrades."

"Musketeer." Catherine scoffed, turning so her pistol was aimed at the blonde. "You're nothing more than a common whore who likely gets passed around the barracks."

"What is it with you and that word?" Anna sighed. "Whore, whore, whore…it's all you've ever called me."

"I simply refuse to call you something you're not."

"You want my full title?" Anna asked laughing. "Fine." She smiled. "I am Antoinette Beauchamp, daughter of the Comte de Poitiers and rightful Comtesse to the estate, governess of the home of the Comte and Comtesse de la Fere and the first and only female Musketeer in France…" She watched as Catherine's smirk faded. "…now put the gun down before I show exactly what I've learnt since we last spoke."

The woman's pistol wavered and Anna slowly released a breath as it lowered to her side. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off as a roar ripped through the air. She didn't even think as she turned and fired, the gunshot exploding from her pistol as she saw Edmond leap at Athos.

The men fell with a thud and Anna felt her mouth go dry as Athos rolled away, his white shirt stained red.

"No." She dropped the gun and was at his side in a second. "Dear God, no." She bunched the material in her hand and searched the smooth skin of his abdomen for any sign of the gunshot.

Her head whipped to one side as Edmond let out a cough; a trickle of blood falling from the corner of his mouth as the Baron ran from his horse, shouting his son's name as the boy took his last breath.

She let Aramis and Porthos pull their brother from her as they hauled him to his feet and quickly wiped away the lone tear that had escaped her eye as she caught the furious swish of a skirt disappear into the village and she knew that this was not the last time she would encounter the rage of Catherine de Garouville.

* * *

"I thought I'd killed you."

Athos let out a chuckle as he changed his shirt for the clean one Jeanne had brought to them.

"Stop laughing." She admonished him, looking up from the floor to glare at him. "I thought you were dead." She ran a hand through her hair before letting the sob that she had been holding since first laying eyes on that crimson blood stain, wrack her body. "I thought I'd be burying you in that damned tomb next to your brother."

He was at her side in an instant, his arms pulling her to him as they sat on the edge of a bed in a spare room in the inn. He let her sob into him and whispered words of comfort as he eyed the lock that was firmly in place on the door; glad that no one would find her so distraught.

"I thought you were dead." She repeated, her voice a whisper as she raised her head from his chest.

"But I'm not." He took her hands. "And that's all down to the person who taught you to shoot so well." She let out a laugh at his words. "It's them you should be truly grateful to."

"Thank you." She whispered, smiling up at him as he wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

"You had a natural talent." He shrugged.

"No." She shook her head. "For giving me a home and a family when I had none."

"I gave you a house." He corrected. "You made it a home."

* * *

They stayed in Pinon for one more night, helping to remove the barricade and rebuild the town. Anna smiled as she leant against the outside of the inn, watching as the villagers carried the last of their belongings into their homes and the Musketeers lead their horses towards them.

"You did it then." Anna turned her head as Jeanne joined her against the wood. "You became a Musketeer."

"First and only." Anna told her proudly, wishing she had her pauldron to show her.

"I knew you would." Jeanne grinned. "Everyone thought you were mad; they were convinced you'd get to Paris and he'd finally marry you." She nodded behind her to the inn where Athos and Bertrand were currently sat. "But I knew you'd do it…I told them all that marriage and babies would happen once you'd saved France a couple dozen times…I told them it's were destined to do."

Anna smiled softly at the girl before pulling her into a tight hug.

"I have missed you, you know." She told her, arm still around her shoulder. "I've a friend in Paris, her name's Constance…she reminds me a lot of you; strong willed, opinionated-"

"All things they've learnt from you no doubt." She huffed at Athos' words as the Musketeer appeared in the doorway with Bertrand.

"My Lord, are you certain about this?" Bertrand asked as Anna released Jeanne and the two Musketeers made their way to their waiting comrades. "I'm just a simple innkeeper."

"Call me _My Lord_ one more time and I shall burn this letter to ashes." Athos threatened as he held out a slip of white paper, sealed with ruby wax. "This…" He held out a ring marked with his family's crest. "…gives you power to act with the authority of the Comte de la Fere." He told him, placing the both it and the letter in the innkeeper's hand. "You are Mayor of Pinon now." Bertrand looked down at the items in disbelief. "The judiciary in Rouen will protect you should the Baron make any more trouble; they will not dismiss the seal of the Comte de la Fere."

"The former Comte." Bertrand corrected and Anna let out a laugh as she climbed into her saddle. "I don't know what to say to you."

"Let's keep it that way." Athos' voice was firm as he turned from the man and also climbed onto his saddle. "We shall not be back here again."

"Good Luck." Anna called to the father and daughter as they nudged their horses onwards and past them. "I spent years trying to get them to not call me _My Lady_ and you do it with one piece of paper." She sighed. "The power of nobility astounds." She teased before pushing her horse forward, away from the group of men and towards a small group of children that were waiting for her.

"I owe you all a debt of thanks." Athos said to the line of Musketeers as the rode slowly through the town. "I was wrong…and you made me see it."

"I don't think you change of mind was because of us." D'Artagnan smiled as

"Who then?" Athos' question was answered as they stopped, and D'Artagnan nodded towards Anna as the woman reached down from her saddle to embrace a few women.

"Your wife."

"You're not letting that go are you?" Athos sighed and the three men to his left sniggered.

"Letting what go?" Anna asked as she moved her horse back into line with them.

"D'Artagnan was just reminding us that it was his quick thinking that saved the day." Porthos lied smoothly before spurring his horse onwards and leading the Musketeers away from the village, the people waving and clapping behind them as their horses disappeared from view.

"It's a beautiful day!" Aramis exclaimed as Pinon became nothing but a dot behind them. "We really should come to the country more often."

"You'd get bored." Porthos sighed, too familiar with Aramis' short attention span.

"I would not!"

* * *

 **A.N. Okay, first things first: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it's taken me to update this story! I completely lost my muse and it's only just starting to return but in bits and pieces so I can't guarantee and sort of regular updates and all I ask is that you stick with me and we'll do this together!**

 **Secondly, I can't believe that's it: the end of the Musketeers! But do not fret, my friends, for I have grand plans for the final series; a lot of twists and turns and couple of deviations from the TV me thinks. But let's get there first, eh?**

 **So, there you have it: Series 2, Episode 5. Until we meet again, fair reader; au revoir! xxx**


	7. Through A Glass Darkly

**A.N. Hello old friends! Another long gap between updates and I can only apologise for that but when the muse escapes you, it takes a while to return. **

**I'd like to do a quick shout out to a few reviewers: Helensg, Jay Legion and the ever present 'Guest'. You guys and your reviews that keep popping up in my inbox have forced me to sit down and actually write this chapter rather than skirting around it and pretending that it'll get done, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.**

 **Also to any and all new Favourite-ers and Followers, thanks guys for having faith in this despite the lack of updates. Only four more episodes to go in Season 2 and then we'll see if I've got any juice left for season 3, eh? I've got plans for it but...well...let's get there first huh?**

 **Finally,** **to Lucy who reviewed on Chapter 4 all those months ago who said that this episode was her favourite; I hope I've done it justice (if you're still reading).** **Anyway, here we go: Through A Glass Darkly. Enjoy! xxx**

* * *

There was no knock on the rickety door before it was pushed open, the sounds of the bustling Garrison filtering through into the room before it was quickly closed again. Her guest gave no apology for intruding or indeed any introduction, and yet she knew exactly who they were and their purpose for entering.

She didn't turn, her fingers still ghosting over her beloved pauldron, the urge to slide it onto her shoulder building as she took in the intricate details of the fleur-de-lis and the marks of battles long past marring the leather. She continued to touch the smooth symbol of her station even as hands came to rest on her hips.

"You haven't been yourself without it."

That was understatement, she thought to herself as his thumbs began rubbing soft circles into the material of her shirt as it met her breeches.

To her, the pauldron wasn't just a symbol of power but a hope for the future of France. If she, a lowly governess' daughter could fight her way to the top of the pile and prove herself worthy of the King's commission, then surely other women could too. France was in no short supply of powerful women who would change the world they lived in if only given the chance.

It had felt strange that morning, slipping into the leather of her uniform after so long in dresses. They had journeyed to the Garrison together; a tense silence between them as they considered what would happen if her suspension was not lifted.

It of course, had been. And it had only taken a meeting with the smug Comte de Rochefort in which she humbly apologised for her behaviour and assured the smirking man that she had learnt her lesson and once again felt worthy to wear the King's symbol. It had killed her. She had fought down bile as the words dripped from her mouth and both she and the Comte knew she meant none of it but he had no reason for a prolonged suspension and so, as she loitered in the courtyard this morning, she had known that the leather moulded for no shoulder other than her own, would be hers once again. The sneer on the Red Guard's face as he rode in with the letter confirming it was just an added bonus.

And so that's how she found herself here, in a small room saved for Musketeers needing emergency lodging, grinning at the pauldron that Treville had safely stored away before his demotion.

"They'll want to celebrate tonight."

She nodded at his words and another smile bloomed as she thought back to the engulfing hugs of her brothers as she caught the leather Treville had tossed from high above on the balcony.

Honestly, they had all looked so worried as she scanned Rochefort's note and her heart twinged as they all stood anxiously, ready to pounce if the worst happened. She loved them all dearly; they were more than family to her: Porthos and Aramis the older brothers she had never known she wanted until they had barged into her life and deemed her in need of their protection, D'Artagnan the youngest of the family – always eager to learn from his elders but his heart always open, Treville was without a doubt the father figure that had been missing from her life since she and her mother had fled Poitier all those years ago – the man had quickly become the source of all words of wisdom and she 'almost' never questioned him, whether he was sending her into the heart of Spain to spy or simply asking her to keep an eye on the men after a particularly stressful mission they were reluctant to discuss with anyone who hadn't been there.

That brought her to the fifth man in the courtyard who had never wavered from her side even when his eyes were full of questions she couldn't bear to answer. The past few weeks had been trying as they tip-toed around the fact that technically she was no longer a Musketeer and then there was their un-planned trip to Pinon and honestly, she was proud that they'd made it...that he'd made it.

"What if I want to celebrate now?"

His thumbs stilled and she could almost hear his thoughts as he pondered the thickness of the walls and the privacy they could be awarded in this small room. His voice was a low rumble as he replied;

"That can be arranged."

The pauldron fell from her hands as she was turned, the hands on her hips encasing her as her own rested atop his broad shoulders, their mouths meeting hungrily. The mere notion that they could be interrupted at any moment was forgotten as her legs were wrapped around his waist and her back hit the wall with a soft thud.

Their hands were everywhere as they desperately tried to find some skin. His jerkin fell first; her delicate hands pushing the material from him as his lips attacked her neck, both gasping as her nails raked down the thin material covering his back and his hands moved under her to support her as he peeled her away from the support of the wall only momentarily as her jerkin too fell.

She was back against the brickwork in an instant, the friction of his hips grinding into hers mixed with his hands pulling her shirt from her breeches was leaving her useless against the wall. This would be quick, she knew that, but she didn't care in the slightest.

They hadn't been _together_ ,at least not properly, since the last time her pauldron was on; she had struggled to face him, even fully clothed, during her time as an ordinary civilian and he had thrown himself into whatever work came his way rendering him exhausted especially after post-mission drinks with Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan. She shook her head slightly, pushing thoughts of the three from her mind and instead focusing on ridding the man before her of his shirt.

The material was barely over his head before he was back at her neck leaving a trail of burning kisses towards the deep V of her thin shirt, her head lolled back as he continued, his hips constantly pressing into her own and despite how much was truly enjoying this, they needed to get a move on; she was sure she could hear something happening outside the haven of their room.

"Oh God, finally." She panted as his hand crept under her shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers skimming the curves of her body as he crept upwards. "I need-"

The door flung open, cutting her off and she felt more than heard the groan escape Athos as he glanced to their intruders. She couldn't believe it. Keeping her eyes closed she just hoped that Athos' burning stare would be enough to make whoever it was turn around.

A choking sound filtered over to them and she thanked God that Athos' glare was powerful enough to turn burly Musketeers into quivering wrecks. She opened her eyes only when the door was firmly closed and with a sigh, buried her head into the crook of his neck.

"At least you're mostly dressed." He reminded her and she laughed into the soft skin of his clavicle.

"I take it we're needed?" She asked, leaning back against the yellowing paint.

"It would seem so." He mused, not moving an inch. "Unless D'Artagnan has decided to dedicate his life to keeping us chaste."

"Poor boy." She laughed, her mind filling with images of a flustered D'Artagnan slamming the door behind him before turning that beet red she loved to entice from him with the occasional wink.

He hummed in response, a small smile pulling at his lips as he leant in to press a hard kiss to her lips before letting her slide from his hold and rest her feet back on the ground.

"Probably a good thing he interrupted us though." She said as she re-tucked her shirt into her tight leather breeches and Athos slid his discarded shirt back on. "One doesn't have one's naming potion." She joked, forcing her voice into the snobbish tone she loved to use when imitating exhausting nobles at the palace. He nodded in agreement as they picked up their jerkins, smiling at their pet name for the tea Anna had been drinking since they first…well…fell into bed together.

" _Naming potion?" Athos asked, watching her sip from the delicate china cup. "What in God's name is a naming potion?"_

" _It makes sure our names remain as Anna and Athos and not Mama et Papa." She told him watching as he registered the meaning of her words._

" _And where did you…?"_

" _Cook brewed it for me." She told him, avoiding his gaze as she blushed. "Apparently our secret rendezvous aren't so secret." He smiled at her, watching as her blush intensified. "The maids know everything." She whispered, meeting his eyes and throwing a pillow at his grin._

"Yes…" He mused reaching down to collect another discarded object. "…Wouldn't want to give this up so soon after getting it back." He held the pauldron up and smiled as she practically skipped to him and plucked it from his hands; cherishing the leather work as though it were the crown jewels. "Would you like me to...?" He gestured to the pauldron and reluctantly she handed it back; turning so it could be slipped up her arm before being secured back into its rightful place. "How does that feel?"

"Like coming home."

* * *

"Signor Galileo has proven the moon circles the Earth, as the Earth circles the sun."

The Louvre palace was without a doubt the most magnificent building in the whole of France, the curly haired woman mused as she made her way to her assigned seat under the golden canopy set aside for the royal party in one of the palace's breath-taking gardens. Every time she set foot in one of its ornate corridors, she felt the urge to pinch herself before skipping down the endless passageways and exploring her new home. If only they could see her now, she grinned; all those people who had sneered at her and told her she belonged in the gutter…well she was in the most gorgeous gutter money could buy right now and she wasn't planning on giving it up anytime soon.

"As the new moon orbits the earth, it moves in front of the sun; like so."

She tittered along with the assembled crowd as the King used a hand mirror to reflect the sun's rays onto them. Her smile was adoring as she took him in; the childish King with his infant son in his arms and the excited grin upon his features at the prospect of being the smartest man on the lawn.

"Milady de Winter…" His eyes softened as they landed upon her and she adjusted her smile so it was more saucy than girlish. The matching grin she received forced another thrill through her body; who knew the most powerful man in France could be so easily manipulated? "…would you do us the honour of playing the moon?"

"But I am Venus, sire." She gestured to the ridiculous headband that had been handed to her that morning; the maids insisting that she wear it to please the King.

"Well, for the purposes of the experiment, you shall be the moon and the Queen will be the Earth." She smiled again before rising from her chair as gracefully as possible and stepping forward to stand between the King and his wife.

Yes, she thought, actually he had a point; this was where she rightfully belonged – separating her newest plaything from the woman he was supposed to love, it was a game she enjoyed very much.

Adopting her most elegant position she allowed the King to shine his little mirror into her eyes, ignoring the hateful stares of the three Musketeers that had ridden up only moments ago.

"See how the moon blocks the light of the sun from the Earth?" Closing her eyes against the beam, she wondered why there was only three and why her favourites were absent; Lord knows Anna and Athos took their jobs more seriously than needed and surely would relish any opportunity to guard the entire royal family? "For a moment…only darkness prevails." She opened her eyes at that and sent the King her best wink, internally rolling her eyes at the silly red chest plate he wore, emblazoned with a sun.

"But then, as the moon moves on…" She took her cue and slipped away from her spot allowing the Queen to be back in her husband's gaze. "…the light slowly returns to the Earth."

Not if she could help it, she mused walking around the royal party and returning to her seat as the people around her applauded the King.

"A brilliant explanation!" She fought another eye-roll as Rochefort complimented the King. "The great astronomer Marmion could not equal it."

She popped a grape into her mouth as he spoke, masking her snort of derision; she had heard better explanations of an eclipse from children. But then again, that was all the King truly was, she reasoned; watching him as he cradled his child and soaked up any and all praise from those around him.

* * *

The Garrison was practically empty by the time they had fully redressed and exited their small room; a chaste kiss and the promise of revisiting their celebration the only lasting evidence of their almost alone time.

"Where are they all?" Hat in hand and fleur-de-lis shining proudly on his shoulder, Anna watched as the last traces of the man who hand held her against a wall only moments earlier vanished and the stern lieutenant returned.

"They uh….uh…" She rolled her eyes at the mess the young stable boy as becoming as Athos' eyebrow rose. "…the old fort at Chatillon, sir." He eventually choked out and with a nod from his superior, he was dismissed.

"He's going to be boasting for days that the mighty Athos acknowledged his existence." She joked as they made their way across the muddy training ground and towards their table.

"You make me sound like an ogre."

"Have you never met you?" She teased. "That glare could turn men into stone if that's what you wanted." She reached for the decanter in the centre of the table and poured them both a glass as they took in the almost silence of the Garrison.

"It would seem we were not needed after all." He mused, his eyes flitting throughout the usually busy place.

"And D'Artagnan was scarred for no reason at all." She sighed, taking a sip of her wine as Athos pushed his around the table. "Although I would have liked to join them at the fort…they say it's been transformed into a mysterious new world or the King to witness the eclipse."

"Do you remember the last eclipse?" He asked, draining his glass and reaching for the decanter again.

"Of course." She smiled at the memory. "A trader had visited the estate a few days prior and you bought a dozen pairs of those strange glasses that allowed us to look straight into the sun." He too smiled as she spoke, the images as clear as day in his mind. "And we took all the village children into the fields and they passed them around as we all lay in the long grass."

"To simpler times." He raised his glass and she clinked hers against it, echoing the words as they shared a small smile.

* * *

Constance hadn't been able to shake the uneasy feeling that had plagued her ever since the open-top royal carriage had rolled to a stop outside the old fort. Even walking arm-in-arm with her beloved D'Artagnan had done nothing to ease it and now, as they filtered into the main room of the old building, it only intensified.

She wanted to put it down to Milady de Winter's blatant flirting or the fact that whenever the King and Queen separated, Aramis was almost always at Anne's side, but she knew it wasn't and now as they took their seats below the strange contraption hanging from the high ceiling, she was positive it had something to do with those men in masks that keep walking around; the long noses completely obscuring their faces and the black robes making each unrecognisable from the other.

Anna had told her time and time again to trust her gut and speak up when something wasn't sitting right, but one look at the King's excited face told her to keep quiet, her position at court meant too much to her these days; her husband was becoming more and more unbearable as each day passed, especially as Anna had unceremoniously moved out and they no longer had any lodgers but also because it allowed her the occasional glimpse at the man standing behind her and the monarchs right this minute.

She still didn't know why she had ended things with him, except for that it had seemed the right thing to do when Bonacieux had tried to kill himself. She had tried desperately to be the perfect wife but his smug little grin had only made her hate him more and more and now her heart yearned for D'Artagnan but she could never find the right words…she was in an impossible situation and she knew it was all her fault.

"The great astronomer!" Constance forced herself from her thoughts as the King greeted a blonde man wearing a sweeping cloak. "All of Paris is talking of the eclipse."

She studied the man before her as he moved to stand before the King, his head inclined in a bow and felt another twinge in her stomach; he looked too much like Rochefort for her to be completely comfortable around him but a quick glance upwards soothed her slightly as Porthos and Aramis took up position on opposite balconies looking down over the royal party.

"May I present, the camera obscurer?" Marmion gestured to the strange mobile-like piece hanging above them and the masked men pulling at various ropes making it turn and dive around them. "My wonderful device will allow your Majesties to witness every detail of the eclipse."

Anna would love this, she pondered as the King oohed and ahhed but the female was nowhere to be seen and when she had asked D'Artagnan about his missing comrades on their way down the steep bank, he had merely blushed while Porthos and Aramis sniggered behind them.

"Our forefathers regarded a solar eclipse as a sign the world was ending." Marmon began as he paced around the covered stand in the centre of the room.

"Luckily, we are all modern men now."

"And yet…" She smothered a laugh as the King jumped at Marmion's words; the monarch not realising he had spoken so loudly. "…we must still allow God a place in the universe. When the darkness comes, will we all feel His dread hand upon us? At this fateful moment, we must consider our own place in the universe. Do we control our fate, or are we merely the playthings of a power beyond understanding?"

"If I wanted a sermon, Marmion, I would have gone to church." The King sighed as his court laughed.

That was probably the only part of life at court she wasn't yet used to; the King's endless need to be the centre of attention despite how silly he was being. Marmion clearly felt the same as his shoulders tensed at the King's beratement and instead of continuing with his obviously well-rehearsed speech, he moved forward and ripped the cloth from the stand.

"Behold! The motion of the heavens."

Oh yes, Constance thought as they all leapt forward to stare at the reflective surface currently showing them the sun above, Anna was going to be so jealous.

* * *

Treville's office was practically bare, Anna noted as she and Athos leant against either side of the doorway, watching their former Captain tidy the desk and dispose of any old paperwork that was no longer needed.

They were silent as they watched, the decanter and three glasses in Athos' hands not even clinking together as the Captain moved swiftly around the room, his back always to them.

He stopped as he reached the small bed in the corner and Anna felt a small piece of her heart break as he lifted his ornate chest-plate and with a sigh, sat it atop the iron screen separating his bed from his desk.

It had been bad enough when she had had to give up her pauldron for her suspension; she couldn't imagine having her whole Musketeer life ripped away from her as cruelly as Treville had. The worst had been when he had vacated the suite of rooms set aside for the Captain of the Musketeers; Athos had told her of how Treville had done it in the dead of the night so nobody would see him carrying his life from one room to another. Nobody had said anything when he took to sleeping in his old office.

"You'll soon be wearing it again." Athos' voice broke the silence of the room and Treville's shoulder's slumped at the sound.

"I was a damn fool." He sighed. "I should have taken that position on the Council when the King offered it; he has Rochefort now…he doesn't need me."

Anna and Athos shared a look before stepping further into the room; Anna moving to stand with Treville as Athos set the decanter and glasses on the desk.

"You're still a Musketeer." She reminded him.

"No…there'll be a new Captain soon and then…"

"Don't you dare." She told him, ignoring the wry smile from Athos as she confronted Treville. "I'll have no such talk today."

"I forget how bossy you can be." Treville smiled, taking the outstretched cup from Athos.

"I wasn't bossy until you handed me this pauldron and made me bossy." She gestured to her shoulder, ignoring the snort from Athos.

"That's a lie."

* * *

It was oddly beautiful, Constance thought as they watched the moon slide in front of the sun; the blackness broken only by a thin ring of gold. She couldn't take her eyes off it; desperate to remember every detail to reminisce upon the time she, a lowly drapers wife, accompanied the King and Queen to watch the eclipse.

A hand on her arm broke her from her reverie and it was only then did she acknowledge the screams coming from those around her. Glancing up she felt her jaw slacken as the King stood with a sword to his throat. Why did this keep happening?

The masked men were forcing them back to their seats as D'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis were surrounded. She fell onto the wooden bench beside Marguerite; the woman barely holding back tears as she tried to soothe the crying Dauphin.

A single gunshot rang out and the room silenced as a single Red Guard fell to the floor. She heaved a sigh of relief that it was not one of the Musketeers but felt her heart drop as her eyes zeroed in on D'Artagnan; the man was now weapon less with a pistol pointed at this chest.

"One more step and the King dies." It would seem she was right to not trust the astronomer she mused, a small trickle of smugness filling her veins as he stood, pistols at the ready.

"Porthos!" Aramis' shout was a warning to the big man and she quickly lost all feelings of superiority as the situation unfolded before her: they were at gunpoint again and D'Artagnan was defenceless…again.

"There is no escape." Marmion told them, and Constance's eyes flittered around the room, her heart breaking as she watched both Porthos and Aramis be apprehended by the masked men and a knife appear at the Queen's side.

* * *

It was eerie to watch the sky go so dark so early in the day, Anna mused as she, Athos and Treville leant against the railings outside the Captain's office, each peering into the sky as they drank.

"You should have gone to the old fort with the King." Anna and Athos turned to Treville as he spoke, the man still staring upwards from his place between them. "Your places are at his side."

"They were gone by the time we got the message." Athos told him, filling his cup.

"We were all ready to go but…"

"That's not what I heard." Treville chuckled into his cup as he took a drink and Anna felt herself flush slightly.

"We-"

"None of my business." Treville cut across Athos. "Not my Garrison anymore…remember?"

"There's always something that needs doing around here anyway." Anna said, ignoring Treville's sombre tone.

"I don't need watching over, if that's what you're referring to." Treville sighed as he glanced upwards again and the Musketeers either side of him shared a tense smile as they sky brightened again.

"The idea never crossed our minds."

* * *

"End this now and the King might yet grant you clemency." D'Artagnan's voice rang out in the hushed room and Marmion let out a humourless laugh before rounding on the King.

"Will you, Sire?" He asked. "If I say sorry will all my sins be forgiven?"

"Yes…I will consider it." Constance had to give it to the King; he didn't sound as though he was utterly petrified as the blade likely dug further and further into his neck.

"We both know you would hang me from the nearest tree." Marmion smirked. "The die is cast; there is no turning back now."

"Show some compassion and at least let the women and the Dauphin go."

Constance wanted to both kiss and kill Aramis as the Musketeer shouted down to them; the man was doing his duty and trying to protect all he could but he was also singling himself out and she had the sinking feeling that Marmion wasn't above killing anyone who got in his way.

"What did you say?" Marmion asked, ascending the steep staircase as though it were a minor step.

"Have compassion." He repeated as the astronomer faced him. "Let the baby and the women go."

Marmion seemed to consider it for a moment and Constance hoped that he would see some sort of sense; the Dauphin was an innocent and every woman in here had no power whatsoever, even the Queen could not rule without her King.

Her hope was shattered though as Marmion turned and without a second thought sent Aramis hurtling through the window. She hadn't even realised she had stood never mind screamed as the usually unflappable Musketeer fell through the glass and to his death.

Chaos broke out once more as Porthos called out to his fallen friend and he and D'Artagnan spared not another second before they were raging against their captors and desperately trying to get to the window.

Constance had heard story after story of the Musketeers finding Aramis dangling from the window ledge of a married woman's bedchamber as he escaped her husband and she was sure that if one of them could get to him in the net minute, he'd be saved.

A single shot quelled the drama and Constance watched as Porthos deflated in the arms of the masked men; knowing that there was no way he could get to his best friend.

"I'm going to kill you." The threat was whispered but it reached her ears nonetheless as Porthos' nostrils flared.

"I, too, have lost friends." Marmion said, bracing himself on the balcony as he ignored Porthos' threat. "I, too, know the anguish of bereavement: the powerlessness, the injustice."

"You talk too much." Marmion's head lifted slowly as his eyes rested upon Porthos.

"Take him to the cellar." He sneered, his cloak fanning out behind him as he returned to the ground floor and Porthos was dragged away; the Musketeer still fighting but to no avail.

"You won't get away with this."

"You know the King's absence will be noted; you don't think someone will come looking?" D'Artagnan asked, still fighting his rope bindings.

"We have hours yet to entertain ourselves." And Constance knew he was right; they weren't expected back at the palace until much later and no one would come looking until at least night fell.

"I'll have your head for this." Rochefort's threat wasn't nearly as low as Porthos' was but she could still see the rage in his eyes as he too fought the ropes around his wrists.

"Take him with the other." Marmion sighed, gesturing for his to follow Porthos. "But that one can stay…" Constance choked back a sob as Marmion pointed to D'Artagnan. "…the game must be witnessed."

"No!" She felt herself shout as more ropes were used to secure D'Artagnan and their chances of escape considerably dropped; at least if he and Porthos had been together they may have stood a chance, but separating Musketeers was never a good move; they were excellent soldiers but an unstoppable team.

"You defend him?" Marmion asked, stepping closer to her and inspecting her face.

"He's my friend." She told him, fear filling her eyes as his pistol came closer to her. "I care about him."

"How sweet…tie them together." She felt hands on her shoulders pulling her back and in no time she and D'Artagnan were joined at the wrists by a long stretch of rope. "They can bring each other comfort."

"We'll get out of here." D'Artagnan promised as they shuffled closer together, their heads almost touching as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "We'll get out of here…"

* * *

Rochefort couldn't believe that of all the people in this damned building, he was currently imprisoned with a bloody Musketeer! His body was recoiling at the mere thought that at the end of the chains cuffing his worsts was Porthos…at least there was a pillar between them so he didn't have to look at that stupid fleur-de-lis on his shoulder.

"Do you think he means to kill the King?" He had no idea why he was talking to the man but Rochefort was unfortunately a talkative man and sometimes he couldn't help himself.

"God knows." Porthos sighed, tugging lightly at their chains. "But whatever he wants, he's been planning this for a long time." He had to agree with the man; this was all too well executed for a spur of the moment thing. The sheer amount of rope and chains they had access to told them that.

"Can you move?" He asked, kicking back against the stone pillar.

Porthos chose not to respond and instead all Rochefort could feel were his joints screaming as the man likely took a step forward and reached.

"STOP!" He shouted as the tension became too much and the chains slackened around him once more.

"It's no good." Porthos sighed.

"Can't you Musketeers do anything useful?" He bit out, rolling his shoulders to make sure they were still in place.

"Of all the people in all the world, I've got to be chained to you." Porthos grumbled.

"We wouldn't be here if your friend had just kept his mouth shut." Rochefort spat. "We'd still be with the King and he might still be alive."

"Aramis will be all right."

"Are you mad?" He felt himself ask, a frown on his features. "The fall alone would have broken his neck and then he'd have hit the ground like a stone."

"You don't know Aramis."

"I admire your optimism, Musketeer, however deluded." He rolled his eyes at the silent Musketeer.

Optimism and brooding must be something Treville taught them in training; they all share it. He felt his mind switch to images of the only female in the regiment and how only days earlier she had practically been on her knees begging him for her position back. He had almost not granted her it, but what's the fun in having a plaything that can't come to court anymore?

So he had acquiesced but he won't lie, when she hadn't shown up at the palace this morning he'd been a little disappointed; his back-and-forth with the woman was becoming something he rather enjoyed: she had surprised him with how quickly she had figured out how…loyal…he was to the Queen and had suddenly found himself having a shred of respect for the woman who had obviously clawed her way to being called a Musketeer.

"Look…" Porthos broke the silence that had settled around them. "…if we're going to get out of this…" He gave sharp tug on their chains. "…we'll have to work together. Agreed?"

Rochefort glanced down at the chains that he knew had no hope breaking on his own.

"Agreed."

* * *

"The time has come to make choices." Marmion had let them simmer for a while before speaking again. Constance glanced up as he shed his cloak and faced the King once more.

"What kind of choices?" D'Artagnan asked from beside her.

"Simple ones, with simple outcomes." Marmion's eyes never left the King even as he pulled a coin from his pocket. "A fair likeness." He observed, comparing the image etched into the metal with that of the man before him. "Call." He flipped and caught it, before covering it with his hand.

"To what purpose?"

"That is the fun of the game." He told Louis. "You don't know and yet, you must call."

"Not unless you tell me why." Constance was, for once, glad of the King's stubbornness as he stared at the astronomer.

"Call correctly and you leave." She watched as the King's eyebrows rose and she wanted nothing more than to shake him and tell him not to fall for it. "But call wrong and you die."

"You don't mean it."

"Shall we find out?" He taunted. "Call."

There was silence as they all watched the King as he shook his head madly; his eyes squeezed shut in protest.

"Is there someone here braver than your King?" Marmion asked, clearly disappointed with the royals' reaction. "Someone willing to gamble everything for freedom?"

Constance opened her mouth to plead with him once more, desperate to end this madness but found herself shocked when another stood and spoke instead.

* * *

"I'll do it." She was amazed at how bored she managed to sound as she rose from her seat, slapping away the hands of the masked man who tried to pull her down.

"Ah!" Marmion turned to face her and she watched his face fall slightly at how un-perturbed she appeared; the pros of so many years masking your true identity she supposed. "You understand the rules?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. "There can be no second chances; no pleading or negotiation…the immutable laws of chance must dictate the outcome."

"Frankly…" She sighed. "…I'd rather be dead than listen to your endless babble for one more minute."

"Very well…call your fate."

"Milady don't do it!" She was honestly surprised when D'Artagnan as the one who spoke up. But then again, they did have a sort of history, perhaps the boy still longed for her in his bed. One glance at how close he and that draper's wife were told her otherwise and she merely smirked at him. "Don't play his game!"

"I'm touched by your concern." She told him, adjusting her headband boredly.

"I order you not to risk your life, Milady." Ah, a touch of true concern laced the King's words and yet, even the prospect of another dazzling necklace could not keep her here when she was being offered freedom; Milady de Winter was never one to throw away an opportunity after all.

"Heads." She told the astronomer. "I call heads."

There was a tense moment as they stared at each other but a quick flick of her hair encouraged him to move on; she wasn't here to play games. He uncovered the coin and glanced down;

"You win." Of course she did. "You may go."

She offered him a low, mocking curtsey before turning away and heading for the door.

"I forbid it!" She didn't turn at the King's cries. "If the King cannot have his freedom, no-one can: I order you to stay!"

"In this room, I am King; and I say she goes." Marmion told the King lowly as he watched her leave and peek over her shoulder as she reached the door told her that he was impressed. "If my men see the King's army approaching, everyone here will be dead by the time they dismount."

"Noted."

And with that, Milady de Winter strolled out of the fort and towards her freedom; playing the odds is how shed survived so far and a mad man with a coin was never going to stop her.

* * *

Constance was till staring at the doorway Milady de Winter had disappeared through. She couldn't quite believe the damned woman had managed to escape and didn't even seem concerned with getting help.

 _Noted._

The word kept going around and around in her head; how could she be so blasé when all their lives were at stake. She wouldn't put it past her riding in the completely opposite direction to Paris. That woman cared for no one but herself and if by some miracle Constance got out of this; she'd be the first to wring her neck.

"You think me cruel." Marmion's unrelenting righteousness was getting on her nerves; the man had yet to shut up. "But life is cruel; one person lives while another dies, there is no reason or rhyme to it…we make our choices and then fate intervenes."

"How would fate intervene?" D'Artagnan asked, and she hung her head, fighting a groan as he unknowing goaded the man further. "We all share the same fate, the same luck…there is nothing anyone can do about it."

"But some of us have the dice loaded in our favour by wealth and privilege…some of you…" He stared at the monarchs. "…don't know what it is to make harsh choices." He took a step closer to them. "In your ease and comfort, you have never had to face them."

"Life is about choice, Marmion." The King said and Constance lifted her head at how level his voice was; he had lost the fright that had plagued it when a coin was held to his face and now they were in the presence of their King…finally. "It can't be avoided." He reminded him. "And some choices are unpleasant and yet they still must be made but there are consequences regardless."

"My point exactly." Marmion threw his arm up a smile on his lips. "I am glad to see you finally engaging, Sire." He paused, his arms falling back to his sides. "Take them."

The men came forward and wrenched the Queen from her seat as Marguerite fought to stay with the Dauphin in his bassinet.

"No!" Louis cried as they were dragged from the room. "No! No! No!" He was held down as he scrambled to stop and was forced to watch as they disappeared from view, his sons cries growing ever distant. "Not my son! I beg you not to harm him!"

"It is not up to me." Constance felt her stomach twist as the Dauphin's cries could no longer be heard and Marmion's sick smile grew. "It is you who must choose."

"Let me go with them." She stepped forward. "My duty is at the Queen's side and I must be there." Marmion stared at her for a second before moving back to the King.

"Take the others."

A sob escaped her as the rest of the court were dragged from their seats and disappeared through the same door as the Queen.

"What are you going to do with them?" D'Artagnan asked as his arm came to rest around her shoulders holding her to him as it all became too much.

"Only what fate decides."

* * *

"…and then I turn the corner and find a pistol in my face." Athos reminisced as he, Anna and Treville lounged in the Captain's office. "And she's still wearing the blindfold because the knot was too tight."

"That's such a lie." Anna huffed as she poured herself another drink, smiling as the Captain laughed along with his Lieutenant.

She wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up sharing stories of times past with Treville but Anna was happy to see a smile on the man's face once more. It had taken some persuasion but she'd forced him into the Captain's chair behind the desk and the two Musketeers had taken the seats opposite, both propping their feet up on the edges of the desk as they poured each other drinks and elicited laughs from their commander.

"What about the time Aramis was chased by a bull?" She asked. "Now that's an excellent story."

"I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of Porthos trying to distract he beast." Athos chuckled as Treville shook his head.

"How you lot keep getting into these scrapes, I don't know."

"It's a skill." She shrugged, stretching out her arms before sinking further into the seat. "But don't pretend you don't live for our mission reports."

"True." Treville conceded.

"Sirs, Ma'am." They all turned as a breathless stable boy appeared in the doorway of the office. "There's a lady here to see you."

"A Lady?" Treville asked, pushing up from his seat with a frown. "We don't have ladies here."

"Um, excuse me?" Anna asked in disbelief as he winked at her and ruffled her hair as he passed. "That's just bloody rude."

"Five minutes ago you were boasting about the time you out-drank Porthos." Athos pointed out.

"Yes, but someone who wasn't a lady wouldn't have been able to do that in a corset."

"Excellent point."

"You two!" Treville's voice called out to them. "Get out here now!"

"What on Earth…?" Anna asked as they stood and made their way onto the balcony. "Why is it never good to see you?" She asked with a sigh as they took in the woman beside Treville.

* * *

"What have you done with the Queen and my son?" The King demanded as one of their captors returned to the room.

"Nothing…" Marmion answered for him as he made his way to the man. "…yet." Constance sighed; at least they were still alive. "The game is just beginning." He strolled away from the King and turned into a corner to speak with the man.

"Sit down." She looked up as D'Artagnan nodded to a bench next to them, with a nod she took a seat and let her head fall into her hands as she wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

"I'm sorry I brought you into this." She moved her hands as D'Artagnan spoke and found herself staring straight into his eyes as he knelt before her. "If I'd never spoken to the Queen, you wouldn't be-"

"You only wanted the best for me." She interrupted with a small smile.

"You're the bravest woman I've ever known."

"Braver than Anna?" She asked sarcastically.

"Well…" He conceded. "…you've a different type of bravery." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Anna's brave because she's a soldier, because she's trained to be brave and to fight…but you're brave because you love so wholly. She uses a sword and you use this…" She felt her breath hitch as his hand rested above her breast, directly on her heart.

"I wish I'd never married." She wasn't sure why she was admitting this but it felt good to say it aloud especially as D'Artagnan's eyes met hers again. "I wish I was free…I wish a lot of things but, we can't change how the world's made."

"We can do anything if we dare, Constance."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Always."

"I-"

"Time to make a choice, Your Majesty." Constance closed her eyes as Marmion spoke up and felt D'Artagnan move away to watch the interaction as the astronomer fell into the Queen's vacated seat.

"What choice?" The King's voice was small again and Constance forced her eyes open to watch them, finding her heart breaking for the royal as he sat with his knees under his chin, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Shall I send this man…" He gestured for a masked man to step forward. "…into room one or room two?"

"What do these rooms contain?"

"In one of them is your Queen, her servant and your son." Constance felt tears prick at her eyes as his words sunk in. "In the other; three of your loyal courtiers." Marmion smiled. "So, which room is it to be?"

"What do you intend to do?" The King's question was answered as the masked man unsheathed a dagger and Louis' strangled sob filled the room.

* * *

"You're a liar and a cheat, why should we trust you?" Athos asked as he, Anna and Treville stared at Milady de Winter and her unbelievable tale of an astronomer gone mad with a game of chance.

"Aramis is dead, the King is in terrible danger but by all means, Athos, let's discuss my moral character." Anna sneered at the woman as she pulled her silly headband off and tossed it onto the Captain's desk.

"It's not like we don't have a reason to distrust you, Milady." She reminded her, the two women glaring at each other. "In fact, we have hundreds."

"Aramis is dead." She reiterated. "Does that really seem like something I would lie about?"

"Yes." Athos and Anna answered together as Treville sighed.

"Perhaps if you had proof?"

"My apologies, I forgot to get a written statement from the man pointing a pistol at my head!" Anna rolled her eyes at the woman. "Do you really think I would come here, and ask you two for help if I was lying?"

"She has a point." Treville concede and Anna and Athos shared a grim look. "I'll gather the men."

"If they see a troop of Musketeers, he will kill the King."

"How many men does he have?" Anna sighed, finally giving in to the woman.

"Ten that I saw…possibly more." The three shared a look as they began to each form a plan. "So we need to surprise them."

"We?" Athos asked, humour in his voice. "No, we…" He gestured to the three Musketeers. "….are a 'we', you are not a part of that."

"I know the way in."

"I'm pretty sure I do as well." Anna laughed. "I'd imagine you head for the fort and use the front door."

"They'll never let you in."

"As opposed to the woman they presumably just let out…yes I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms."

"I-"

"Ladies." Treville cut across the bickering women. "If we're doing this then we'll need to work together." Anna shook her head as Milady grinned. "We all go and the rest of the men will stay out of sight until the King is safe." He glanced around the three for any signs of disagreement before stalking from the room.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" Milady asked as she caught Anna's eye.

"Trying to figure out when you became human and grew a conscience."

"If the King dies I lose my position at court." Anna snorted as the truth poured from the woman. "It would be a catastrophe."

"There she is." Anna smirked. "You had me worried for a moment there; almost thought you truly did care about something other than yourself."

"Don't be stupid." Milady scoffed, turning to pluck a grape from the bunch on the table behind her.

"I'll leave you to deal with her." Athos murmured, a gentle hand on her arm.

"You're too kind." She bit out, her eyes never straying from the woman before her as he too left the room. "Come on then." She nodded to the door. "Let's find you something more suitable than those things." She nodded to the pearlescent slippers on her feet. "Wouldn't want you hurting yourself."

* * *

"You can't mean it!" The King cried as Marmion pressed him for an answer. "You can't be so much of a monster!"

"I wasn't once…but this world made me one." Constance sighed at the astronomer's vaguety and hoped that if Louis continued to hold out; someone would come searching for them. "Now choose; room one or room two?"

"I don't know who is where!"

"That's the beauty of it!" Marmion grinned, leaning back in his chair. "A choice made blind; hoping for the best."

"I don't know what you've done with my wife and my son…my baby son!" H wailed and something inside Constance snapped.

"The Dauphin is only a few months old!" She shouted across the room. "What harm can he have done to anyone? Hat harm has the Queen done? Or any of us?" She asked. Anne had quickly become something of a friend to Constance and she saw the Dauphin every day; they meant so much to her.

"It is not me who would injure them." Marmion defended himself with a wry smile. "Fate will decide and the King is the vehicle of fate." He turned back to the man who was now holding his head in his hands as he cried.

"How can I make such a choice when the stakes are so high?"

"Now, you are learning the game." He grinned. "Choose, Your Majesty, or this man will enter both rooms."

* * *

Rochefort felt tears prick at his eyes as the chains around his wrists were pulled to the extreme, he could feel them cutting into the soft flesh below and his mind filled with images of snapping bones before he called out again for the Musketeer to stop.

"A few more inches would do it." Porthos panted as he fell back against the stone separating them. They both looked longingly at the hooks embedded in the crumbling walls and pondered their plan.

"Save your strength." Rochefort sighed as he eyed the hooks opposite him and wondered if they would ever reach them. "Survival is about being patient; I learnt that in a Spanish prison."

"Five years in jail…that must have been tough." Rochefort snorted at the word. Tough didn't even begin to explain what he'd been through. "How did you get through it?"

"You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

"A woman." He couldn't believe he was telling this to a Musketeer. He must be dehydrated because this…shouldn't be slipping from his lips. "The thought of her kept me alive."

"I never had you down as the romantic type."

"Because you know nothing about me." Rochefort reminded him as images of blonde hair and a smile to die for filled his mind.

"True." Porthos conceded. "You and this woman…did you two, erm, get together when you got out?"

"She's with someone else." He sighed, rolling his stiff shoulders as the Musketeer digested this information. "But her feelings for me haven't changed; we're inseparable – can't keep away."

"Who is she?" Rochefort let out a laugh at the question.

"As if I would tell you." _Blonde hair, bright eyes and that laugh – so rich so…beautiful._ "She'll be mine soon enough."

"You'll have to sort her man out first."

"A minor detail; I assure you." He smiled to himself. "He is nothing to her; we know everything about each other and soon, when the time is right, I'll be the one at her side."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out." Porthos' voice was distant almost as though he was shocked by something and Rochefort let his head fall back against the pillar; probably never thought a man like him could love…fool.

"We're done talking now." He told the Musketeer. "Ready to go again?"

"Yes."

Rochefort feel his jaw tighten and screwed his eyes shut as the Musketeer pulled forward once more, his fingers just out of reach of the hook.

 _Blonde hair, bright eyes and that laugh – so rich so…beautiful_. He kept repeating to himself. _She'll be mine soon._

* * *

"Who did you kill?!" Louis' screams announced the re-entrance of the dagger wielding man who had left only moments ago. "Who did you kill?!" He fell to his knees before the relaxing astronomer.

"Goddam you!" D'Artagnan shouted as Louis sobbed and Marmion watched on; a smug smile firmly in place. "Don't torment him!"

"The Queen and your son are alive."

Constance let out a sob of her own at the news; she had been stoic, wishing and praying from the very moment the King had brokenly uttered the number _"One."_ She felt the knot in stomach loosen only momentarily before D'Artagnan spoke again, his voice also broken as he realised first what the status of the Queen and Dauphin meant.

"Did you kill the others?"

"It was the King's choice that sealed their fate."

"It had nothing to do with fate." D'Artagnan spat. "You murdered them."

"I take no pleasure in their deaths." Marmion shrugged and Constance had to disagree with him; his relaxed pose in the Queen's seat and the ever-present smile were not the actions of a man who felt remorse.

"What happened to you?" She asked. "What made you like this?"

"I had to make choices once." He told her. "Impossible ones; life for one, death for another…playing God with the lives of the people I loved." He looked back to the King who was still crouched at his feet. "Now you also know what it feel like; the gift of life and death. For the first time in your life you understand what your choices really mean!"

* * *

They had made good time to the old fort, Anna mused as she, Athos, Treville and Milady crept down the bank and towards the building; their eyes everywhere as they searched for life in any of the windows above.

Anna had been right; Milady's revolutionary way of gaining access to the building had in fact been by using the front door and she shook her head as they all crouched beside it.

"Now what?" She whispered to the woman crouched behind her. "Going to knock and say regret leaving early?"

Milady shot her a dirty look before standing, straightening out her jacket and marching forward to the grate acting as a front door.

"Oh for God's sake." Anna groaned as the woman caught the attention of the two guards.

* * *

"So how does this end, Marmion, hmm?" Constance looked up as D'Artagnan spoke. "You kill us all and the what? What exactly have you achieved?"

"Balance." The astronomer replied. "A harmony in nature." He paused as the King clawed his way back into his chair. "A shout of defiance in the face of an indifferent universe."

"If I'm going to die for a cause I'd like to know what it is."

"Does the name Gerberoy mean anything to you?" Marmion asked the King, ignoring D'Artagnan. "Gerberoy? No?" He asked. "It is, or was, a village an hour or two east from here. The kind of humble place a gentleman rides through quickly. But it was home to a community of a hundred souls or more…it was our home." He gestured to the man who had escorted the Queen away. "One day, the plague struck without warning; people who were healthy at sunrise were dying by nightfall."

"How can you blame me for this?" Louis asked, his eyes still full of anguish. "The King cannot contain the plague."

"The plague was harsh." Marmion cut across him. "But it was burning itself out. We even began to believe God had spared us the worst of it…then orders came from the King." He paused. "The village was to be blockaded to prevent the spread of infection. Anyone who tried to escape was shot."

"Plague villages have to be contained to save other lives." Louis argued.

"Food should have been left for us, but it never came. In the end, it wasn't infection that killed us…it was hunger. **You** starved us to death out of sheer indifference. I had to look at my family, my wife, our two boys. I had to choose who would get the scraps of food I scavenged. Choose who should live and die." He ran a hand down his face. "My wife wouldn't touch a bite while her children were hungry: she withered away before my eyes. At the end, I only had enough food for one of my dying boys. I had to choose between them... but I loved them both too much. So I tossed a coin and let fate decide…my youngest was saved." He gave a weak smile which quickly fell away. "But a week later, he died anyway." He leant in close to the King and whispered; "Now, you also know what it feels like to condemn one innocent to save another."

"Do you really think that your family would want you to do this in revenge?" Constance asked as she used the length of the rope tethering her to D'Artagnan to her advantage and moved to sit beside Marmion. "To play God with other people's lives?"

"How can I know what they would want?" He asked, meeting her eyes. "They're not here to tell me." He turned back to the King. "We are all that's left of our village: we should have died, but we didn't. We were kept alive for a purpose. Gerberoy is gone but we shall see it is never forgotten."

He rose and faced the King smiling as Constance felt bile rise up in her throat at the sight of that damned coin dancing between his fingers.

* * *

"Try from your side." Porthos panted as he fell back against the stone.

Rochefort eyed the hook opposite him wearily; they'd been at this for hours and Porthos hadn't been able to get even a finger onto his hook, how was he supposed to do better.

"Try." The Musketeer pushed and Rochefort heard the clanging of chains as he readied himself.

"Ready?" The Comte asked and a quick " _Yeah"_ from behind him had him leaning forward as much as possible, groaning as his fingers skimmed the cool metal before he fell back. "The plaster's old." He told him. "If I could get a proper grip I-"

"Try again." Porthos instructed and Rochefort rolled his eyes before forcing himself forward once again.

He felt his own arms burn as his fingers finally latched onto the metal but they quickly slipped away, slamming him back to the stone.

"So close." He sighed, letting his arms fall to relieve the pressure of the iron around his wrists.

"Okay." Porthos bit out after a moment. "Go for it." Rochefort frowned and turned as much as he could to peer at the man hidden by the square pillar. "And don't stop, no matter what."

"Are you mad?" He asked, fully aware of what would happen to the Musketeer's shoulder if he pulled as much as he could.

"As long as you put it back in afterwards; I'll be fine."

"I'm not a doctor." The Comte argued.

"Brace yourself and pull as hard as you can." Porthos instructed. "Any fool could do it."

"Know that I will take great pleasure in it." Rochefort smirked as he prepared to launch again.

"Just go!"

"Fine." Rochefort spat and taking a deep breath he hurdled forward, using all his experience from prison to block out Porthos' cries as his fingers reached closer and closer to the hook until finally…he had it.

* * *

As much as she hated to admit it; Milady was proving useful; she had gotten the grate open, disposed of the first guard and was now leading them down a labyrinth of corridors towards the King.

"I told you I'd be useful."

"I'll only deem you useful when the King is safe." Athos told her, his eyes flitting own every corridor they passed stopping only when a scream filled the fort. "That was either a wounded bull…or Porthos."

"I've heard a wounded bull…" Anna mused as she spun to face the direction it had come from. "…And that was definitely Porthos." They shared a look before sprinting back down the corridor.

They skidded to halt as a figure rounded the corridor and Anna felt herself break out into a smile as Porthos spotted them and stopped rubbing his shoulder to grin at them.

"What was all that noise about?" Athos asked, unclipping a pistol from his belt and handing it to him.

"I hurt my shoulder." He told them and Anna felt her smile drop when he refused to meet her eye.

"Is that all?" She pressed, hoping he would look at her but the grin dropped further when he ignored her and instead focused on Treville as a blonde man strolled to join them.

"Thought you'd been dismissed." Anna sneered at Rochefort's choice of greeting as he eyed their former Captain.

"Until the King says otherwise; I'm still a Musketeer." Treville told him and Anna fought a smile at their Captain, glad to see him back to his usual self.

"Then make yourself useful and give me a pistol." He ordered and Anna watched as Treville handed one over.

"What's she doing here?" Porthos asked, nodding towards herself and Anna wondered exactly what she had done to upset the same man who held her so tight this morning upon getting her pauldron back, before realising Milady had come to stand next to her.

"She's helping us." Anna told him and watched as he sneered at the words.

"God help us all."

Anna eyed him curiously as he and Rochefort readied their pistols before nodding and the group began to move again.

She suddenly felt very vulnerable as she and Milady walked together, ahead of the group as the men fell in behind them. Porthos' eyes were boring holes into her back and she racked her brains for the reason he was being so…distant. It was as though he didn't trust her anymore.

She wanted to stop him, ask what had happened, if Rochefort had been spouting lies about her behind her back? She wouldn't put it past the man – he had taken great joy in stripping her of her pauldron and it wasn't exactly beneath him to try and sully her reputation.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it quickly as a set of footsteps echoed through the hall. She stopped suddenly and with a finger to her lips, signalled for Milady to get behind her as she crept around the corner.

Pistol at the ready, she lunged around and felt a laugh escape her as she too met the barrel of a pistol.

"Thought you were supposed to be dead." She quipped and reached behind her gesturing for the group to emerge as she and Aramis lowered their pistols.

"Sorry to disappoint." He joked, also gesturing behind him. It was then Anna noticed the baby in his arms and let out a sigh of relief as the Queen appeared beside him.

"Your Majesty." Treville greeted her as they all fell into bows. "Thank God you're safe."

"It's good to see you, Captain." Anna smiled as Treville puffed up slightly at her words and the gentle smile she sent him as she retrieved her son.

"God was watching over you, Your Majesty!" Rochefort said as he raced ahead to scout the corridor they had emerged from.

"God…" She agreed, smiling at Aramis. "…and the Musketeers."

"How's the King?" Treville asked as Anna and the Queen shared a one-armed embrace before the woman grinned down at the Dauphin, stroking his cheek lightly.

"Still with Marmion." She said with a sigh as Anna pulled back. "I pray he hasn't been harmed."

"He'll be fine, Your Majesty." Anna assured her, trying not to frown as from the corner of her eyes she watched Porthos embrace Aramis. "I promise."

"This is all very moving…" Anna turned as Rochefort spoke and grimaced as she found him staring directly at her and the Queen. "…but can we get on with the business of saving the King?"

"Of course." Anna stepped away and sneering at his arm gesturing for her to go first, she slipped down the narrow passageway, the angsty Comte at her heels.

* * *

"Untie her." Constance felt her eyes widen in disbelief as the words she had desperately hoped he would not utter filed the air. Hands were on her in an instant, pulling her to her feet as she kicked against her captors.

No, she thought, please not like this. Not when there was so much she still needed to say.

"No!" D'Artagnan's cries broke her and she felt the tears she so far held back, slid down her cheeks. "Please don't harm her! Please!"

"Time to make another choice, Your Majesty." Constance tried to blink away her tears as she was placed directly opposite the King, the reflective surface which had once amazed them, her only barrier from him. "Call correctly and this woman goes free…but get it wrong and she dies."

"No!" D'Artagnan shouted and she could hear him fighting against Marmion's men. "Why?! What has she ever done to you?"

"Nothing." Marmion shrugged. "She is an innocent, as my children were…why should she be spared and not them?"

"I beg you! Marmion!"

"Are you ready, Your Majesty?" He asked as she met the King's eyes. "Of course…" He pondered as the man sat in silence. "…you can always refuse and I can just kill her anyway."

"Please, Your Majesty! Don't make his call!" D'Artagnan begged as the coin flipped through air and was caught by Marmion.

Bravery. That's what D'Artagnan had said she had: bravery. And so she mustered all she could and filled her mind with happy memories; her childhood, the day she bumped into Anna for the first time, meeting the Musketeers, D'Artagnan…beloved D'Artagnan.

"Tails." His voice was hollow as he spoke and Constance turned her head to watch as Marmion uncovered the coin.

Heads.

She took a deep breath before forcing more and more happy memories into her mind; the Queen and her kindness, the Dauphin's smile, the love Anna and Athos refused to speak of…D'Artagnan.

"Look me in the eyes before you kill me." She said, her voice suddenly strong as a pistol was pointed at her. "Think of your wife and children and how they would judge you now…do that and then shoot if you want."

"Do not talk of them to me."

"They'd be ashamed." She sneered.

"She's right Jacques." She didn't look away from him as another filled the air. The man from before, she presumed, perhaps his brother.

"It's not my choice!" Marmion cried, the pistol shaking in his outstretched hand. "The rules of the game must be observed!"

"Then take me." That was when her eyes moved from Marmion and she felt her heart twist as she watched D'Artagnan. "Take me…my life for hers."

"No, D'Artagn-"

"Take me!" He shouted as Marmion's pistol refused to move to point at him. "You think I can just stand there and watch you die?" He asked her, his voice breaking. "I won't do it; I can't do it…so take me!"

"Let us test your resolve." Marmion watched them as they stared at each other. "Untie him." Constance watched as the ropes vanished from his wrists in an instant and Marmion turned to him. "You are free to go." Both she and D'Artagnan turned to stare at the astronomer. "Yes, I offer you your release; you can live the rest of your life in careless freedom…but she dies."

"Please D'Artagnan…" She begged. "…Just go, go and get help and I'll-"

"Not a chance."

"There is no need for your sacrifice." Marmion told him and her eyes filled again. "You can live."

"I've made my choice."

"You would die for her? Why?"

"Because I love her." Eyes bleary with tears, she turned to the Musketeer and felt her heart bloom at the words. She had thought she'd lost him forever but he was there, he loved her. "Promise me you'll let her go."

"One life for another…" Marmion pondered. "…why not." The pistol lowered. "The girl lives, and you die."

"Please brother, don't do this!" She barely heard the words as hands released her and she ran to D'Artagnan, the gunshot barely registering until the unknown man fell and D'Artagnan was in her arms, a bleeding hole nowhere on him.

Sobs escaped her once more though as two sets of hands pulled them apart again and restrained them as Marmion held his dying brother.

* * *

"You know…" Milady began as they loitered in alcoves, waiting for Porthos to return from scouting. "…I often wondered how you do it."

"Do what?" Anna asked distractedly as she peered around the stone to keep an eye out for the Musketeer.

"Run around all the time in heels." Anna hung her head as the woman beside her held out her foot and inspected the heeled boots Anna had thrown to her back at the Garrison. "But they're rather comfy."

Why, Anna wondered, when they had split up to fit easier into the line of alcoves along this wall, had she been forced to share with this bloody woman? She'd rather have taken Rochefort than Milady; the woman had yet to shut up and the prospect of shooting her and leaving her in the fort was looking rather enticing.

"There's two of them." She heard Porthos' whisper as he returned and thanking God that she didn't have to spend another moment with the woman, she stepped out to meet him and the rest of their group.

"Right." Treville began. "You two take this corridor…" He nodded to Aramis and Porthos. "…we'll take the lower." They all nodded. "Attack on my command."

They fanned out, ready to take their positions when Anna let out a soft laugh.

"You're staying here." She told Milady a hand blocking her from following.

"Wha-"

"I'm not jumping in front of a musket ball because you stopped to admire the shine on **my** boots."

"You'd jump in front of a musket ball for me?" Anna growled at the smirk on Milady's lips. "I'm coming with you."

"No you're-" She cut herself off with a growl as Milady pushed past her and trotted down the stone steps to join the others. "Maybe I'll shoot you myself."

* * *

"Marmion, wait. Marmion, listen to me." D'Artagnan pleaded as the astronomer stood and using both his and his brothers pistols, aimed at both of them.

"What now?" He sneered. "Another sacrifice? Your life for the King's?"

"No, yours." Constance felt her heart stop as she realised what D'Artagnan's play would be. "Follow the rules of your own game. Either the King dies or you let us all go. Let the coin decide."

"D'Artagnan, have you gone mad?" The King exclaimed, leaping from his seat as Marmion seemed to consider the offer.

"At least this way you get a chance." D'Artagnan told him, ignoring the fury building inside the King as his life was played with.

"No, you're right. Fate must decide." Marmion forced another grin onto his features. "Call correctly and you all live. If you are wrong, you personally will execute the King."

"I forbid this!" Louis cried as he was also restrained.

"You make the call." D'Artagnan insisted and Constance sighed, hoping to God that his went well.

Marmion nodded, his eyes never leaving the King as he flipped the coin and covered it with his hand.

"If the King's head is face up, he dies. If it is tails, you all live." He said and Constance watched as Louis' whole body began to slump as he realised how close to death he now was.

He moved slowly, the coin still covered until he was a mere breath away from the King. His hand slipped away and Constance felt her knees buckle at the King's cries and the sight of Marmion readying a pistol for D'Artagnan.

"Now!" She could have cried as the doors were flung open and the only people she 100% trusted with her life flooded the room.

The Musketeers worked in a flash; Aramis and Porthos taking out man after man on the balcony above while Athos, Treville, Anna and Rochefort cleared the room they were stood in.

"Where's Marmion?!" The King cried as the last man fell and she and D'Artagnan all but collapsed into each other; their relief all consuming. "I want his head!"

* * *

There was no sound between them apart from their footsteps echoing on the marble floors of the fort as they followed the King towards the exit. Treville and Porthos flanked him either side, and Anna felt all the better for it; the big man still giving her wide berth but at least he couldn't scowl at her if he was in front.

"The traitor Marmion is dead!" She hadn't even heard Rochefort approach, but as she lifted her head she felt sick at the smug grin he wore as he lapped up the King's praise.

"Rochefort you are a hero: your prompt arrival saved me." She watched as Louis stared adoringly at his supposed devoted friend. "While you…" He turned to glare at D'Artagnan. "…you encouraged that madman to gamble with my life!"

"I had to stall him, Sire…it's all I could think of."

"I admit you played a brave part, but it was a very dangerous game!" He gave the Musketeer one final look before turning his back to him and instead focusing on the loitering woman ahead.

"Thank God you are well, Sire." Anna rolled her eyes as Milady fawned over the King; she played the part well though, one would never have known that hours the only reason she wanted to come back was to save her position at court. No doubt she'd be back in his bed tonight.

"You deserted your King, Madam." Perhaps not, Anna mused watching with slight glee as the King glared at her. "You placed your life above mine."

"I risked my life to get help, Sire." She gestured behind him to the assembled Musketeers who were all hiding smirks.

"Vacate your rooms in the Louvre immediately." He told her and Anna watched as her face crumbled. "Rochefort…" He called to the man. "…we must discuss how I can be better protected." And with that the King and his favourite hell-hound were off.

"So that is the reward for virtue." Milady laughed as she watched them leave. "Nothing."

"Not entirely…" Anna spoke up, gaining curious looks from her comrades. "…you can keep the clothes." She grinned.

* * *

She wasn't quite sure what had sent here barrelling back down the bank she had just climbed, but as Constance whizzed past Anna, she knew she wasn't running back down a hill, but towards her future.

"I love you." It's what she'd wanted to say to him all day, from the moment he had offered her his arm to enter the fort, she had wanted to tell him that is was him; only him. "And I don't care what people think or say." She told him, very aware that as she stood in his arms, they had a crowd watching. "This is my life and I want to spend the rest of it with you."

"Do I get a say in this?" He joked and she smiled up at him.

"Absolutely not."

* * *

Heels dug into the grassy bank, Anna watched on with pride as Constance flew into D'Artagnan's arms and they sealed their love with a kiss. Finally. She huffed, a smile on her lips as she turned and continued her slow descent up the steep bank.

"Oh, thank you I-" She tried to drop the hand that reached out to her to help up the last part of the bank. "Rochefort." She nodded to the man as he kept a firm hold of her hand.

"Anita." Her eyes flew wide open as he uttered that name and she quickly scanned around them to ensure no one had heard.

"What do you think you're-" His grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her closer.

"You were absent from the King's side today."

"I had other duties." She told him, trying desperately to make him let go before someone noticed.

"You're duty is to do what I tell you to, Anita." He told her, leaning in and whispering the name that kept her up at night. "I trust you won't be otherwise engaged when needed again, Senorita."

She wanted to slap him. It was the only thing she wanted in the whole world but as the King called out for his adviser, her hand was dropped and the tension disappeared. She ran the shaking hand through her hair before glancing around and sure that nobody had seen, she made her way to the group of Musketeers looking on fondly as D'Artagnan and Constance laughed.

"The love of a good woman…" Aramis sighed wistfully as they continued to watch the pair make their way back up to the waiting horses. "…turns boys into men."

Athos shook his head at the man before clapping him on the shoulder and the pair headed for their horses, Treville in tow.

Now was her chance, Anna realised as only she and Porthos remained at the edge of the bank, now she could find out what was plaguing the man. Shaking all thoughts of the Comte de Rochefort and Anita Abaroa from her mind, she turned to him.

"Porthos, is-"

"I know about you and Rochefort."


	8. A Marriage of Inconvenience

**A.N. This one refused to be written before Christmas and then had another strop before New Year so here we are; 2017, and Episode 7.** **God knows when Episode 8 will surface, I'll do my best though and we'll talk again then.**

 **There's only one person I can dedicate this to: Books-and-Cleverness for reasons only they know. I hope you carry on writing and dreaming and just being brilliant. FanFiction exists because of people like you who not only support other authors but also contribute yourself. We're a community who embody the _All for One_ motto and you made me sit down and write this chapter (an extraordinary feat).**

 **Happy 2017 Everyone!**

* * *

The land surrounding them was desolate as four Musketeers escorted a rolling carriage through the French countryside and towards Paris. They had been on the road for days; the trip to Modane on the France-Italy border taking almost three days when they had been travelling at full speed, stopping only to sleep and rest their horses.

But now, as their horses walked in front of and behind the slow moving carriage; the journey home was beginning to feel more of a pilgrimage.

Athos and D'Artagnan were up front; leading the small party into a muddy clearing as word of their cargo's need to stretch their legs reached them. They came to a slow stop amongst the high rows of corn and as Aramis and Porthos too came to a rest in the clearing, the door to the carriage was opened and their cargo escorted out by her loyal footman.

"Forgive me." She began as she released his hand and stepped further into the bleak sunshine. "It's been a long journey from Mantua and I long for some fresh air and exercise."

"We'll be at Paris within the hour, Madame." D'Artagnan assured her, choosing to ignore Porthos' raised eyebrow and snort of derision at how fast they were moving.

"I haven't seen the King since we were children." Princess Louise told the group of men as she gazed out across the rolling hilltops around them.

"He's barely changed." Athos mumbled, climbing down from his saddle as she kept her eyes fixed on the countryside of her home.

"Tell me, Monsieurs…" She turned to face them. "…do you know anything of Sweden?"

There was a pause as they each tried to think of some redeeming quality of the place the King was shipping her off to.

"It snows?" Aramis offered with a light smile. "And is very cold."

"It will be my home soon." She said, as though trying to remind herself of the fact as she gazed across the surrounding French countryside. "I wonder if I shall ever see the warm sun of Italy again?"

The travelling party were silent as the princess let her eyes flutter closed against the soft breeze rolling in from the open landscape; only the occasional horses' whinny and rustle of crops filled the air.

"I-" Athos' mouth snapped shut as the rustling of corn crops increased but the breeze died down.

Eyeing the other Musketeers and communicating a silent order to increase their guard, the flapping of a pheasant as it escaped the tall plants was all the signal they needed as their pistols were eased into their grip just as the first shot form their hiding enemy rang out.

"Get behind cover!" Was the shouted order from the Musketeer lieutenant as the Princess' guard fell and only Musketeers remained. "Get the princess back in the carriage now!" Athos bellowed as he too fired shot after shot at the enemy.

"Inside, inside!" D'Artagnan ushered the princess towards the open carriage as chaos erupted around them; horses bucking and whinnying as musket balls flew past them and the dodging Musketeers fighting; hand-to-hand, steel-to-steel – until only they remained in the small, muddy stretch of farmland.

As quickly as it had started, the fighting stopped and rapiers were slid back into their scabbards and bodies inspected for distinguishing marks.

"Spanish." The word was practically spat by Porthos as he held up a coin he had recovered from one of their assailant's purses.

The four Musketeers were quiet as they surveyed the scene; the princess gently asking Francesco; the last of her guards, if he were well.

"This ambush was no coincidence."

* * *

The only sound in the private room of the Louvre palace was the rhythmic tapping of a heeled foot on the hard-wood flooring and the occasional sigh as Anna waited and waited for Milady de Winter to make her appearance.

The room was in complete disarray; piles upon piles of clothes covered each surface with side tables almost drooping under the sheer amount of gaudy necklaces and jewels that had been flung onto them.

The King had forbidden any of his loyal servants from entering this particular room and as such, not one iota of packing had been achieved by the recluse that was desperately trying to maintain her hold on the King that had ordered her gone from his palace almost a week ago.

"This is ridiculous." Anna huffed as she eyed the empty bags piled in a corner and poorly hidden by the thin blanket that had been thrown atop them.

The only thing not draped with clothing was the ornate mirror in the sitting room of the small suite that had been set aside for the King's once favourite mistress. Sun streaming in through the huge windows overlooking the palace's gardens, Anna had to admit that she understood Helen's reluctance to leave.

But she was here to do a jab, she reminded herself as she straightened her court-approved uniform in the huge mirror before stepping over more and more discarded items and heading for the white double doors.

Placing a hand on each of the cool handles, she threw open the doors and sneered into the almost darkness of the bedroom.

"Get out of bed or I'll drag you out by your hair."

* * *

It wasn't often that the former Captain of the Musketeers was surprised. Of course, he had been shocked beyond belief when he had been unceremoniously demoted and yes, seeing his old friend General de Foix had defiantly flummoxed him after believing him dead for all those years, and then there was the Cardinal's sudden death and…well…okay so it wasn't often that Treville let his surprise show.

Today, his plans had involved more of the drinking he had been slowly succumbing to in recent days as the matter of his demotion truly began to hit him and then maybe he'd shout at whoever was lazing around the Garrison to get up and train before falling into bed.

So, the stable boy appearing at the door of the office he now used as a bedroom and babbling something about a princess and his Musketeers here in the Garrison…the Garrison that was most definitely not the church they were supposed to be delivering Princess Louise to…well he didn't have enough time to slide his mask of indifference into place as he grabbed his jerkin and raced outside just as the carriage came to a rolling stop in his courtyard.

"Why have we stopped?" The princess voiced his own question as D'Artagnan escorted her from the carriage just as Treville reached the bottom of the staircase; a questioning look to his lieutenant forcing the Musketeers to join him. "Isn't the archbishop expecting us?"

"We'll take you to him shortly." D'Artagnan told her. "Please, sit." He gestured to the table that was unquestionably theirs; Treville always fought a wry smile as other Musketeers cleared upon sight of the famous five approaching the picnic bench.

"What's wrong? Why have you brought her here?" He asked the gathered four as they stepped away from the princess and her servant.

"We were ambushed on the road." D'Artagnan told him.

"By a gang of men carrying Spanish gold." The annoyance in Porthos' voice rang out despite their lowered voices and Treville felt himself sigh at the news.

"Spain was never going to stand idly by in the face of an alliance between Sweden and France."

"You mean the princess might still be in danger?" The group turned as a new vice joined the mix and Treville fought another sigh as the princess' servant appeared beside them, concern rife in his features.

"There's no need for alarm. We're in Paris now; she'll be perfectly safe." Aramis told him as the group opened to allow the man into their company.

"As soon as she's rested, we'll take her to the archbishop, as planned." Athos agreed; the confidence exuding from him doing a lot to ease the man as he nodded his eyes flitting over to the princess as she sat happily in the Garrison.

"Back there I failed. But for you, she would have been killed."

"Don't be so hard on yourself." D'Artagnan told him. "You did your best."

"It wasn't enough. If any harm should come to her..."

"Don't worry. You're both under our protection now."

* * *

"I don't know what more I can do to shift her." Anna sighed as she strode into the office on the ground floor of the Louvre. "Unless I actually kick her all the way from the wing to the exit."

"You say that as though it is not an option." Rochefort drawled, not even glancing from his papers as she slumped into one of the chairs facing his desk, despite how much he wanted to. From the corner of his eye he had seen a hem sweep along the floor and realised that it wasn't often he got to see the lovely Musketeer in a dress.

"As much as I'd love to, I doubt it's the image the King wants." She said, her fingers interlacing as she rested them across her bodice; succeeding in finally drawing his eye from the paperwork before him to the ornate fleur-de-lis on the royal blue material of her dress.

"Just get her out." He told her, forcing himself to return to his work after sighting the Musketeer symbol so proudly displayed below her heaving, corseted breasts.

"I'm working on it." He watched again from the corner of his eye as she waved away his order and he fought a smile at her choice to not remind him that she didn't take orders from him, despite how much power he was slowly accruing at court.

A comfortable silence fell between them as she glanced around his office and he pretended to read the letter in his hands while actually studying the woman before him.

If, he thought, if they'd managed to bump into each other all those years ago…what could have happened? He was devoted to the Queen, there was no question about that, but what if they'd met before he'd been sent to collect he young princess from Spain for her marriage? If she had come to court perhaps things would have gone differently; she was definitely the sort of woman he was instinctively drawn to; spirited, untameable and devastatingly beautiful so….

He shook his head, he loved the Queen. He **loves** the Queen.

"But that's not why I'm here." She spoke again and he refocused on the letter as she spoke. "After your darling little show outside the fort…" She paused and he caught the glare she shot him as he stubbornly refused to look up again. "…my brother in arms dropped a bombshell…Porthos knows."

His head snapped up to meet her gaze and he felt his hands tighten around the letter.

"Knows what?" He asked, gad that his voice remained calm despite the thoughts rushing between his ears. Surely she wouldn't have told them about that dammed prostitute? Had he let something slip in the old fort to the brute of a Musketeer? How quickly before he was going to hang?

"I don't know…" He felt his breaths halt. "…all he said to me was; _I know about you and Rochefort_." She took a breath and he felt his hands relax as realisation dawned. "So I want to know exactly what you said to him when you were chained together."

He leant back in his seat and let out a laugh at her words; he obviously **had** let something slip in the fort. He thought back to a simple phrase he was sure he had said internally but well, he had been known to mutter things that bothered him: _Blonde hair, bright eyes and_ … _so…beautiful._

Oh this was better than he could have ever hoped for. He had managed to get this wild thing before him under his thumb with a few well-placed threats and now…now the biggest of the bloody lot thought she was sleeping with him!

He watched her fists curl in frustration as the grin refused to leave his lips and wondered how long she had managed to avoid the Musketeer for.

"Darling Anita…" He drawled and watched with glee as her fists tightened. "…I th-"

He was cut off as a sharp knock on his study door filed the room.

"Come in, de Barville." He called out, remembering his scheduled appointment with the man and not the woman in front of him who had simply swept in.

"You sent for me?" The fat man asked, eyeing the female Musketeer and the fury coating her beautiful features.

"Yes." He smirked down at Anna as he rose from his seat. "Mademoiselle Beauchamp was just leaving."

The two men watched as she practically swallowed her tongue to refrain from snapping at the Comte before exiting as swiftly as possible from the study, leaving only a trail of floral perfume in her wake.

Rochefort took a moment to hear her heels disappear down the corridor before actually paying attention to de Barville.

"The King's cousin, Princess Louise of Mantua, is betrothed to the Swedish Crown Prince. The Musketeers are escorting her to Paris as we speak." He wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

"And you wish me to take charge of her security when she arrives in Paris?"

Rochefort ignored his question as he strolled to the opposite wall of his office and rummaged through the piles of scrolls neatly organised on it.

"Do you remember this?" He asked, pulling a scroll from a pile and opening its seal before passing it back to the man. "It's a record of the King's Council's decision to refuse the ransom demanded by Spain for my release...from imprisonment."

"Now, you must understand…" Rochefort felt his eyes roll at the nervous tone his voice had suddenly adopted. "…the issue was a complex one."

"The council betrayed me." Rochefort turned to face him and felt a little joy at how pale de Barville had gone. "You betrayed me. Why?"

"My orders came from Cardinal Richelieu himself. It was his express wish that no ransom be paid."

"Why would he abandon a loyal servant in such a fashion?" Rochefort fought to keep his voice steady as he finally got an answer to the question he had been answering since first realising that help form his beloved France was not coming.

"Um, well, the cardinal felt that you were..." Rochefort took a step closer and de Barville stumbled over his words slightly. "…perhaps...not entirely..." Rochefort closed the gap between them and felt his eyes flare. "…of sound mind."

Silence fell over the room as the truth of his words hit Rochefort

"I spent five years in that hellhole."

"What does this have to do with Princess Louise of Mantua?" de Barville desperately tried to change the subject as he re-rolled the scroll and all but threw it back into one of the wall's compartments.

"I wanted you to be the first to know…" Rochefort decided to allow the man a breath and stepped back slightly. "…her marriage will not be going ahead after all."

"Does the King know? I must raise it at his council meeting. A strengthened alliance between France and Sweden is vital."

"Unfortunately…" Rochefort sighed as he slid a small dagger from his sleeve. "…plans have changed."

Rochefort cast a weary look over de Barville as the man crumpled to the floor, the quiet gurgle of blood from his slashed throat drowned out by heavy footfalls as Rochefort returned to the letter on his desk and let his mind wander back to the corseted form of Antoinette Beauchamp.

Yes, things could have been so different.

* * *

The church was deathly silent as Anna made her way across the marble floor, trying not to let the incessant clicking of her heels irritate her as she reached the thoroughfare leading to the altar. A quick glance at the dead body lying in a pool of its own blood told her all she needed to know as she turned and looked up to the balcony where she knew all focus would be.

Reaching up to lift the wide hood of the cloak she had been handed as she swept from the palace upon hearing the news of the archbishop's untimely death at the princess' marriage blessing, she let a small smile rest on her painted lips at the sight of her four favourite Musketeers leaning against the wooden balcony; Aramis staring down the length of a crossbow while the others silently berated themselves for not anticipating the attack.

Opening her mouth to call out to them as they finally realised who the woman in royal blue was, she was deftly interrupted by the appearance of the man who had been in the carriage behind her.

"Outstanding work, Musketeers!" She sighed at Rochefort's shouted greeting to the men as he stopped beside her. "A man of God slain under your very noses!" He gestured to the dead Archbishop.

Anna watched as the men exchanged looks before making their way down from the shooters vantage point and towards the altar as Anna too turned to the church's focal point and knelt before the archbishop; paying her respects to the dead man as she knew would be expected of her.

"And you let the killer escape." Rochefort mused as four sets of footsteps approached them. "Truly excellent work." He reiterated, eyes boring into them as he held out his hand.

"A crossbow then?" Anna asked as she accepted Rochefort's hand and rose to her feet, holding the bolt that had pierced the archbishop's throat.

"More accurate than a musket and easier to conceal." Aramis added as Anna quickly dropped Rochefort's hand and avoided Porthos' frown at the action; now was not the time to be having this conversation with Porthos - the man had to know that everything Rochefort did was for show?

"If the princess hadn't slipped, she'd be dead now. She was the target." Athos murmured as took a step closer to Anna and she deposited the bloody bolt into his outstretched hand. "Someone is determined to stop this marriage." The blonde eyed the princess as she sat away from the scene, her shoulders visibly shaking as her servant tried to calm her.

"The princess cannot stay at the archbishop's as planned." She sighed, tearing her gaze away from the sobbing woman and back to Athos as Aramis pressed a gentle kiss to the gilded cross he wore as a mark of respect for the fallen man of God. "She must be escorted to the Louvre for her own safety; I'll be able to oversee her security while you chase down the criminal."

"Get her to the Louvre." Rochefort agreed. "Assuming you can manage such a simple task without losing her?" He asked the Musketeers with a smug grin as Anna felt a hand settle on the small of her back. "We must return; Mademoiselle Beauchamp and I have duties to attend to."

Anna opened her mouth to speak once more to the Musketeers that she felt more and more removed from every time she was summoned to the palace and kept from them and her 'real' job, but the hand was suddenly propelling her forward and out of the church, her only communication with them being a forlorn glance over her shoulder to her most beloved Musketeer as he took charge of the situation before once again catching the deep frown of Porthos.

* * *

"Custom-made, best-quality steel, short bodkin, armour piercing…a real assassin's weapon." Athos fought to keep the admiration from his voice as he studied the bolt that he had just cleaned. "Old-fashioned but deadly." He nodded his approval, raising his head to face Treville and Porthos as the three men congregated in the Captain's office. "Who still makes weapons like this?"

"There are perhaps half a dozen armourers left in Paris with the necessary skills." Treville mused.

"But only one who'd consider hiring them out to the Spanish." Porthos added. "A man with a serious grudge against king and country."

"Boucher." Treville agreed; the traces of a sigh in his voice.

"A Huguenot and a survivor of the siege of La Rochelle."

"And a true artist." Athos returned his gaze to the deadly bolt and crossbow; artistry only someone of their profession could truly admire. "I've a mind to commission a piece myself."

"You know, that might not be a bad idea." Treville mused from his perch on the low bunk in the corner of the room. "How else are we going to tempt him out of hiding?" He asked knowingly as Porthos frowned at the idea.

"We'll make contact." Athos said and with a nod to his comrade, they let Treville alone, both choosing to ignore the bottle he was reaching for.

After all, it's not like Athos could reprimand him for taking the same comfort he himself had so many times before.

* * *

Three carriages rolled into the Louvre courtyard in a long, almost procession like, line.

"I trust I can place the Princess's security in your…capable hands, Mademoiselle?" Anna sneered at the Comte and his words as he watched her exit her carriage; the vehicle swiftly leaving the palace entrance to make way for the last of the three.

"Of course." She waved aside the assembled Red Guards and smiled wetly at the Comte as he was handed a note. "I would trust Aramis and D'Artagnan with my life."

"Yes, but we aren't discussing the value of mere Musketeers…this is the Princess."

"Nevertheless…" She bit back the response she wanted to deliver; a curse and a swift kick. "…I trust them implicitly."

"Hmm." He crumpled the note and turned to D'Artagnan as the Princess was escorted from her carriage. "Do put some effort into keeping her alive while Mademoiselle Beauchamp continues her…clear out of the royal wing."

The two blondes shared a final glare before the Comte swept away to deal with whatever he filled his days with and Anna turned back to the waiting party.

"It is an honour to properly meet you, Your Highness." She bobbed a curtsey to the woman before gesturing for her to enter the palace.

"The honour is mine, Mademoiselle." Princess Louise smiled as she waved her along. "A female Musketeer; how exciting."

"Indeed, Your Highness." Anna forced a smile as she thought of how recently her days had been filled with absolutely nothing to do with the Musketeers and how ridiculous she felt in this damned costume.

"It's not a coincidence, is it?" The Princess turned back slightly to speak to the trailing two Musketeers. "This killing, the men who attacked us on the journey; it's me they're after, isn't it?"

"Speculation is pointless. There's no need to worry." Aramis assured her as they turned towards the marble staircase.

"If I am to die, I would rather be prepared."

"No harm will come to you now." D'Artagnan piped up. "This is the safest building in all of France." He said. "Especially with Anna at the helm." The blonde felt her cheeks warm at the compliment and smiled gratefully at the young man.

Truthfully, she wasn't exactly sure how she had come to be trusted with guarding the monarchs. As soon as the Queen had announced her pregnancy, Anna had been forced out of her uniform and into gowns for no apparent reason.

She herself had trained with the majority of the men stationed permanently at the palace and was confident in their ability to guard the royals, but after the Dauphin was born and then Rochefort appeared, she couldn't exactly say no to being here in the Louvre; if only to keep a beady on the man as much as she could.

Every time she visited the Garrison she felt her heart crack a little; the men still looked to Treville for guidance but he had practically become a recluse and now Athos was unofficially taking the burden of arranging shift rotations and the like. Him spending hours upon hours at the Garrison and her spending days at the Louvre was doing little for their supposed life together and now, with Porthos seeming to be watching her every move…she was nervous in her own home.

She couldn't understand exactly why she was unable to tell Athos the truth about…well everything. Rochefort was putting on more and more of a show lately and his little stunt in the cathedral was not going to go unnoticed by the lieutenant so realistically, she should spill her secret to him; it would be awful and he'd hate her but…they could figure it out together, especially now that Treville was in no position to defend her.

"If only we could have stayed in Mantua, Francesco. We were happy there. This marriage is my death sentence."

The Princess' deep sigh broke Anna from her thoughts and exchanging a light nod with the waiting Constance at the top of the staircase, now there was another woman whose love life wasn't going to plan, she led the Princess further and further into the palace and hopefully away from danger.

* * *

De Barville had clearly been enjoying the luxuries of court far too regularly, Rochefort thought as he heaved the huge, dead man into the empty trunk in his office. With a final grunt, the man tumbled into the deep wooden chest and Rochefort allowed the lid to slam closed; it was a good thing the Comte liked to keep himself in shape of he'd never have lifted that weight alone.

Bracing himself on the now closed case, he took a breath and let the gentle, hesitant footsteps in his next appointment fill the room.

"I'm puzzled, Lady Marguerite." He began, turning and leaning against the chest to face her. "I thought you came to court to make a good marriage."

"You know I did."

"Then why do you force me to reveal to the world the sordid details of your private life?" He watched her face screw up and tears prick at the corners of her eyes as he 'gently' reminded her of her compromising relationship with the Musketeer Aramis.

"You wouldn't. It would ruin me."

"You leave me no choice."

"You ask too much of me."

He rolled his eyes at her petty back and forth; the court definitely needed an upgrade – more women with backbones should surround his beloved Anne and perhaps then there'd be less of a need for those blasted Musketeers.

"I asked for information on the Queen and you failed to provide it." He reminded her. "So I must assume you wish me to speak to your father."

"No... No!" He watched with a mask of indifference as she fell to her knees in the centre of his office. "The shame... it would kill him. Please..."

"I will give you one... last chance." He sighed.

"I will do anything." She offered, head bent and he took a moment to savour the sight of the broken woman before him.

Striding forward slowly he came to stop directly in front of her and let his mind wander back to the sight he had seen in the cathedral that morning.

"Aramis wears a jewelled crucifix." He felt his stomach curl as he recalled how the Musketeer had pressed his lips to the golden cross. "Bring it to me."

"I know it." She nodded, finally raising her head to meet his gaze. "Why?"

"That is **not** your concern." She flinched at his words and bent her head once more. "Do as I ask…" He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "…and your reputation may yet be saved."

She nodded quickly in his hold and he released her, the force of his grip pushing her back to the floor. A quick yet brutal sneer from him sent her scuttling from the room, clutching her skirts as she rose from the cold floor.

Pathetic.

* * *

The small, but still grand, room that had been set aside for greeting Princess Louise was absolutely full to the brim of people. Hands clasped in the centre of the room were Queen Anne and the Princess, this their first meeting since Anne first arrived in France and Louise shipped out to Mantua.

"I owe my life to the diligence and bravery of your Musketeers."

"We are all in their debt."

A warm glow settled through Anna at the Queen's words and warm smile. It was moments like these; when you knew that the job you'd been doing was keeping these people safe, people like Anne and her ever grinning baby boy were exactly why she would never question her role here at the Louvre.

"A pity they could not prevent the archbishop's death."

And then there was Rochefort. She fought the sneer that bloomed automatically when in his presence and questioned again why he was being so bloody…calm and…friendly? Was it even possible for the vile man to be friendly? He'd been practically blackmailing her for weeks, no moths and then this morning…she wasn't blind; he'd been paying attention to her for all the wrong reasons.

"No-one could have done so." Princess Louise glanced briefly at the Comte as he stood between the two assembled groups; Musketeers on one side and Ladies-In-Waiting on the other. "You were not present, my dear Comte, so you cannot know the circumstances."

"Rochefort, the King was most anxious that we should present the princess with his marriage gift."

"Alas, in the all the turmoil it has not yet been collected." Anna frowned at Rochefort's confession to the Queen; he'd had more than enough time to collect it on their way back from the cathedral.

"See to it."

"Might I suggest Captain Treville should have the honour? Despite his unfortunate fall from grace, there is no more reliable man in the King's service." Her frown deepened; it was one thing to be nice to her, but to be nice about Treville? Had Rochefort had a stroke and nobody noticed?

"Have a message sent to him." The Queen's order was swift and a quick bow from Rochefort had the woman promising to take tea with the Princess and introduce her to the Dauphin before also leaving the room.

The frown on Anna's face was going to become deep-rooted if she wasn't careful, but one look at Constance as the double doors leading to the designated suites for the Princess had her blood boiling and the crease between her brows deepening.

"This way, Madame." Constance's eyes widened as she took in the grim look on Anna's ace and the blonde knew without a doubt that D'Artagnan and her could be twins as they studied the split lip the woman was trying to hide as she led the Princess away.

"I need to speak with you on an urgent matter." She almost missed the whispered plea of the Dauphin's governess as she and D'Artagnan stalked towards the rooms Constance was escaping to.

"What matter?" Aramis' voice faded away as Anna nudged D'Artagnan forward with a promise in her eyes as her hand shot out and wrapped around the wrist of the draper's wife as she loitered just outside the Princess' suite.

"Spill." The order in her voice was clear as it dropped low enough to go unnoticed by the guards making their way to their stations outside the suite.

"I don't-"

"Lies will only prolong this, and if it takes too long D'Artagnan will come out here and then we'll both get angry and murderous so just tell me because I don't have a lot of time." The statement came out in a rush as she pulled Constance towards a small bay window and squeezed her hands. "Tell me."

"My husband." The confession was barely a whisper and Anna felt her heart break as she saw the woman's lifeless eyes. "I told him that D'Artagnan and I-"

"I'll kill him." Anna only managed a half turn back into the corridor before Constance jerked her back.

"No, Anna, no." She told her gently but Anna could feel nothing but rage towards the vile man that had laid a hand upon Constance. "He knows that he's lost me now." Her eyes flittered to D'Artagnan; the man just visible from his station in the suite. "I'm free."

"He hurt you." Anna bit out. "You are my best friend and I will kill to make sure you are never hurt by him again."

"He can't hurt me." Constance told her and waved away Anna's disbelieving stare and the pointed look to her cut lip. "He can't hurt me if I don't let him and today…today I stopped letting him."

Anna was quiet as she took in the woman before her and watched as life returned to her features as she snuck another glance to her young love. She squeezed her hands once more before letting them drop.

"If he so much as tries to lay a finger on you…" She reached out to tuck a brown curl behind Constance's ear and felt the woman relax into her gentle touch. "…I'll gut him like a fish."

"How do you make that sound so kind?" Constance snorted and Anna felt a laugh leave her lips as she pulled the woman into a tight hug before releasing her.

A pointed look down the corridor and she met D'Artagnan's eyes. A quick nod and smile had the man visibly relaxing and with a final grin to the woman, she turned and left the Princess under D'Artagnan's watchful eye.

"You were... only ever a diversion, Aramis." Anna felt her eyebrow rise as she stepped back towards the reception room and began to hear Marguerite and Aramis' conversation once more. "These things shouldn't be taken too seriously."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way. It's a great weight off my mind."

Maybe... we part as friends, at least. Hold me one last time?" She met Aramis' eyes a quirked a smile as he held the governess; a knowing look in her eyes as he finally let go of the woman tethering him to the dauphin.

Constance had finally bid her vile husband goodbye, Rochefort was being…less of a nuisance and Aramis was letting go of Marguerite.

Perhaps things were beginning to look up.

* * *

"Get out! Out!" Athos lifted a weary foot as he reached the top of the steps leading to Treville's former office and sighed at the shouts now emanating from inside. "Let the Comte de Rochefort know it'll be my pleasure." He felt his eyebrow rise at the venom in his mentor's voice as he practically chased the palace messenger out of the office and stared him down from the balcony and out of the Garrison.

"Sir?" Treville's head snapped to his as Athos intercepted him at the top of the staircase. The tension in his face eased slightly as Athos' sole words served to remind him where he was.

"Rochefort treats me like his errand boy now." He sighed; tiredness etched deeply into every one of his features as he whistled for a horse to be readied. Athos remained silent as they descended together: looks like their meeting was being pushed, and allowed the man to calm and not push him for further information. "I'm to fetch the Queen's gift for Princess Louise." He told him, tugging on his gloves.

"Don't let him humiliate you." The advice was out in an instant; the lieutenant having been on high alert regarding anything to do with his Captain and the Comte. The last thing this regiment needed was to bear witness to their usually unflappable leader receiving another dressing down from the King.

"You think I should refuse the job?"

"Deliver this gift directly to the Queen herself." He said as they reached the bottom of the steps. "Let her see your devotion and loyalty, even in the face of provocation."

A small smile rested on Treville's face as a horse was brought forward and the man looked his lieutenant with pride.

"It's you that should have been the politician." Athos grimaced at the thought. "I never had any talent for such games."

"It is a dance not easily forgotten." Athos told him sadly, knowing that his childhood lessons of how to play the dangerous games that came hand-in-hand with titles would never leave him.

"The regiment will need a new captain soon." Treville's words came from nowhere as he moved to mount his horse. "I could recommend you." He lifted himself easily into the saddle and Athos was grateful for the second where his back was to him; knowing the shock as clearly written on his face. "You've been doing it anyway." He reminded him, pride still evident in his eyes as he looked down at Athos. "I'm finished here…It's time you all accepted that."

Watching his mentor spirit his horse forward and leave the Garrison without a backwards glance felt like a knife in the gut to Athos. To say that the thought of taking on such a responsibility permanently didn't scare him was a blatant lie.

In the months since Treville had been demoted, more and more letters left the Garrison with Athos' scrawl at the bottom and as he considered the perks that came with being a Captain, he knew it was something that he should properly consider.

In the brief moments they'd had together lately, he hadn't been able to broach the subject with Anna, not even the promise of a suite of rooms in the Garrison tumbled from his lips and night after night when he rose from their bed and slipped into a chair to pour himself a drink and watch her calm breaths as she slept, he wondered if it was because of the secret she was keeping from him.

They still hadn't quite moved past her inability to explain her suspension, despite everything they'd done since, and he knew that something was eating her up inside and he'd bet every coin he had that it had something to do with her ever increasing calls to the palace. He just couldn't piece it together.

Treville had advised him to just wait it out when he'd finally opened up to his mentor during one of the long nights he'd spent here at the Garrison, hastily filling in paperwork to ensure the regiment continued to function smoothly and effectively.

The older man had plied him with wine until Athos had felt unguarded enough to discuss his private life with the man he owed so much to. It was no secret that Treville was a father figure to each and every man wearing their fleur-de-lis, but as his right-hand man, they shared a closer bond than most realised and with Treville stepping closer and closer to the exit of the Garrison as everyday passed, Athos was at a loss with what the future held for him; Captain of an unstable regiment? A woman unable to open-up to him?

Sometimes, wine was truly the only answer.

* * *

"I left hours ago." Anna was close to tearing her own hair out as she surveyed the unchanged room in the Louvre. "How have you not managed to pack a single item?"

A delicate shrug from the woman lounging across the chaise longe overlooking the gardens had her blood boiling.

"Helene!" The brunette's eyes snapped to hers as she spat the name. "I will have the Red Guards storm this room and arrest you if you continue to refuse to leave."

"When did you start commanding the Red Guards?" Helene's eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Being the official plaything of the Comte de Rochefort clearly has perks; perhaps I should have taken him up on his offer, considering how things with the King have worked out."

"I am not Rochefort's plaything." She seethed, kicking the nearest pile of clothes in frustration. "But you'll be his prisoner if you don't **leave.** "

"I don't see why I should!" Helene was up and facing her in a second. "I earned this!"

"You spread your legs for the King and then valued your own life more than his." Anna reminded her, her voice calm. "You're not the first to eave in disgrace and you won't be the last." She told her. "Just be glad that you're not carrying something else out with you." Helene's hands came to rest atop her stomach as Anna spoke.

"I'm not leaving."

"You don't have a choice."

"I'm tired of people telling me that I don't have a choice!" She shouted. "You're a thief; I have to have you arrested; we don't have a choice." She rattled off, her nose upturned in a sneer as she spoke. "Leave Paris, don't encounter the Queen, spy for me, kill the Ambassador…" She trailed off, realising all she had said as Anna felt her jaw slacken.

"Perales…" She breathed. "…you?"

"Oh don't look so shocked." Helene sneered, turning to pick at the necklaces slung onto a side table.

"Rochefort?"

"Who else?" Anna nodded at her words and sank down into a nearby chair.

"What did he promise you?" Helene was silent and Anna knew the answer but spoke anyway. "How much of your history did he promise to erase?"

"Enough of it." Anna sighed at the admission. "Can you blame me? A quick kill and then whatever information on you I could dig up."

"Why are you telling me this?" Anna asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Helene was likely privy to more information that she wanted.

"Because he's a pig." Helene turned back to her. "And you're going to need all the help you can get to take him down."

* * *

"Monsieur Boucher." He was glad that he had refrained from consuming too much of the ruby liquid that once was the only way to function day-to-day. "I am Athos." In fact, there wasn't even a hint of fuzziness in his head as he greeted the blacksmith responsible for the deadly bolt that had pierced the archbishop's neck.

"I know who you are: I make it my business to know the finest swordsmen in France." Athos ignored the blatant attempt at flattery as Porthos ushered the man further into Captain's office and towards Athos as he stood beside the desk. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Recognise that?" He held up the short bolt and watched as a crease formed between the smiths eyes.

"Yes." His eyes flickered to the crossbow lying beside the Musketeer and a short nod from Athos had him handling it carefully, one hand firmly on the stick supporting his limp. "This is my work." He admired the weapon. "The highest quality in Paris: you don't find craftsmanship like this every day."

"I'm sure the archbishop was **very** appreciative of the quality." Porthos mused as Athos tossed the bolt onto the desk top, nodding for Boucher to take the seat.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, as he finally got to rest his leg. "Where did you find this bolt?"

"In the archbishop's throat."

"I had nothing to do with that." Boucher's defence was quick as he recoiled from Porthos' implied accusation.

"You? A known dissenter with a grudge against the Catholic Church and a personal connection to the murder weapon." Athos loosed a humourless laugh "You're the last person we'd think of."

"I make weapons. I don't use them." Boucher told them adamantly.

"Then **who** did you make this for?" Porthos asked, gesturing to the crossbow.

"…That's confidential."

"You've just admitted making the weapon that killed the archbishop." Athos reminded him.

"So here's our problem: someone has to die for the archbishop's murder. And right now... we have no other suspects."

"All right! Wait." Boucher's voice rose as he avoided Porthos' heavy stare. "It's one of a matching pair that I made." Athos knew he'd picked the right Musketeer for this as Boucher continued to avoid Porthos and tried to appeal only to Athos.

"For who?"

"For myself!" He ignored Porthos' snort and continued as he lifted himself from the chair and moved, on unsteady legs to face Athos directly. "There were 27,000 French citizens living in La Rochelle. By the time **your** King had finished with us, there were only 5,000 left. When the siege ended all my weapons were confiscated and sent to a new home." He eyed the crossbow and bolt. "That's where this has come from."

"What new home?" Porthos asked and Boucher looked back to him.

"The Cardinal sent them all to the Red Guard armoury." Athos heard Porthos' swift intake of breath at the information. "Whoever used this... came from your **own** side."

* * *

"It might've been stolen." Rochefort continued to argue with them even as they strode through the palace.

"Or the killer was a member of the Red Guard." Athos pressed again as he and Porthos flanked the argumentative Comte up the staircase.

"I have more than 500 guards under my command; unless you've killed any in a bar-room brawl today." He shot them a look as he rounded a corner and continued to climb. "Do you think you could be a little more precise in your accusations?"

"It doesn't concern you that there's a traitor amongst your own men?" Porthos' words brought him to a standstill and, a handful of steps above them, Rochefort turned; his face the picture of boredom.

"It would concern me more if you had any proof." He told them. "This weapon could've found its way into anyone's hands." He sighed dramatically as Athos and Porthos shared a look. "You Musketeers, you really must give up this ugly habit of blaming your failures on everyone else."

"Please ensure Milady de Winter is escorted from the palace to a location of her choosing." All three men felt their attention divert as a female voice filled the air.

Athos felt his eyebrow raise as Anna turned onto their staircase, flanked by Red Guards whilst urging Helene forward.

"That is; any location other than a royal residence." She and Helene shared a hate filled smile as a Red Guard pushed the former mistress slightly to continue her journey down.

"Excellent work, Mademoiselle Beauchamp." Rochefort crooned and Athos felt his skin crawl at the compliment as Porthos stiffened beside him. "I trust the suite is now devoid of any traces of-"

"I've done what you asked of me." Anna interrupted with another tight, mocking smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" She pushed past him and continued down the steps; her hadn't brushing only slightly against Athos' own as she stepped between the Musketeers on her way down.

"Actually…" Rochefort's raised voice had her stalling and Athos turned back to the Comte as his eyes stayed fixed on Anna's retreating figure. "…this I would like to see for myself." He flashed her another grin before jogging back down the steps and towards Anna and the waiting Helene.

Sharing another look with Porthos, the Musketeers followed, curious as to why the Comte was taking such an interest.

"Search her bag." He ordered with a click of his fingers and Guards appeared from nowhere to rifle through the pile of bags that had been waiting at a nearby exit.

"Do you not think I can do my job, Rochefort?" Anna asked and Athos had to admit that even he was a little shocked by how she was speaking with the Comte; eyebrows raised and snarl ready to go, she was the picture of contempt as he merely smiled at her.

"Of course not, Mademoiselle, it is her I don't trust." As he gestured to the fuming Helene, Athos also took the moment to observe how comfortable the Comte appeared to be in his lover's presence; the blonde man clearly full of joy as he stepped closer to the female Musketeer as a string of jewels were produced from a small bag.

"What do you think you're doing?" Helene asked as the jewels were handed to the Comte. "These were personal gifts from His Majesty: keepsakes."

"You leave carrying only what you arrived with in addition to few items the King had granted as a token of the affection he once held and the memories created during your time here." Anna sighed gesturing to the two waiting bags; the speech clearly a practised and repeated one; Athos found himself wondering exactly how many times the woman had been used as a friendly but firm face when removing mistresses from the palace.

"How dare you!" Helene cried as the bags were simply thrown into the waiting carriage. "I deserve better than this I-" She stopped again as Rochefort simply handed the necklace to Anna who deposited it into a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. "Who do you think you-"

"You would be wise **not** to make an enemy of me." Rochefort drawled as the woman's attempts to lunge at Anna were foiled as two Guards held her back.

"Is that a threat?!" She spat and Athos felt both he and Porthos' hands tighten on the hilts of their rapiers.

"Merely an observation." Rochefort told her and Athos watched as Anna stood completely unperturbed by the unfolding scene; she was either so used to the threats of disgraced women or was 100% certain that Rochefort's men would protect her.

He felt a breath escape him as he fully took in the scene before him; they looked fearsome, both in royal blue and taking no notice of the woman before them. Both wore masks of boredom yet the lack of tension in Anna's shoulders that was usually present when Rochefort's name was spoken, was gone in his presence. What else had he missed?

"If I **ever** see you in this palace again...I'll have you executed as a thief." Rochefort dismissed her with a slick of his hand and Helene was being bundled from the palace in a second.

Sparing her no further glances, Anna and Rochefort turned and stalked back towards the waiting Musketeers; the Comte completely ignoring them while Anna offered only a small smile and twinkle in her eye that usually meant she'd be home that night.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that anymore.

"Wait!" He heard himself calling out to the Guards as Helene was pushed towards the waiting carriage. Throwing Porthos a glance that told him to wait here, he met her outside. "What will you do now?" He asked as she brushed down her skirt and glared at the retreating Guards.

"What does it matter to you?" She asked with a sneer turning from him to step into the carriage, but his hand shot out to stop her. "What do you want me to do?" She asked him and he felt this hand drop away as he realised he no idea why he was stopping her. "Admit that I'm shamed and penniless? That I have no prospect and no hope? Well, there you are. It's all true. Are you happy now? Now that I'm finally getting a taste of what I deserve at last?"

"I get no pleasure from witnessing your humiliation." He told her honestly and some deep rooted feeling of duty had him reaching for the coins that hung at his waist. "This is everything I have on me." He pressed the purse into her hand. "Take it and leave Paris."

"First, you threaten to kill me and now it's bribery?" He could see how confusing this must be for her; he had spent months sneering at her and wishing her dead in Thomas' place but…perhaps that visit to Pinon had had an effect on him? Maybe seeing Thomas' grave again had finally made him face his grief?

"A gift. There is a difference."

"You think I'll accept your charity?" She pushed the purse back into his hand and sneered. "I want nothing from you."

"Hel-" A warning glare from her had him stopping.

"I'm not finished yet." She promised him with a smirk. "Not by any measure." She stepped into the carriage. "And we both know that the Comte de Rochefort was a bigger fool for making an enemy of **me**."

* * *

The messenger had barely finished before Anna was pushing them aside and racing from the room she had been allocated at the Louvre. Pushing through groups of courtiers and taking the stairs two at a time, she met an equally breathless Aramis at the central entrance of the building.

Sharing a grim look they both stepped into the afternoon sunshine and mounted the waiting horses before pushing them into their full speed and racing from the palace.

Not a word was spoken between them as they cantered towards the Garrison and Anna felt bile rising as her mind conjured images of what was waiting for them.

Athos' message had been short but succinct; his usually impeccable handwriting replaced with a rushed scrawl.

 _Treville has been shot. Find Aramis. Get here quickly._

* * *

"Move! Get out the room now!" They arrived just as the Captain was being carried into the Garrison and with a tense look passing between them, they followed Porthos' shouts into the main dining area for the Musketeers where the tables were being cleared and pushed together. "Quickly! Move that chair. Put him on the table!"

"Gently! Gently!" Aramis chimed in once the captain was face down on the wood surface and the only Musketeer with any real medicinal experience took over. "One, two, three..." She watched in horror as the makeshift stretcher was whisked out from underneath him and the Captain yelled in pain.

"Get me a washcloth and water." She said to a nearby Musketeer as se eyed the blood in his mouth.

"Captain!" Aramis shouted over the din. "Captain, it's Aramis. You're at the garrison." He told the man as equipment was brought forward and Aramis took control.

"He was on the Rue Jacob." Athos said, his eyes never leaving the gasping man on the table as Porthos cleared the room until only they were left. "Nobody saw the attacker."

"What was he doing there?" Anna asked as she took the items she'd asked for and shooed the Musketeer away.

"Rochefort's errand." He told her as she placed the small bowl at the head of the table and dipped the cloth in. "Collecting the King's gift from Monsieur Arnaud."

They watched as Aramis tore open Treville's shirt to reveal the neat but wide musket ball hole in his back.

"We need a surgeon." Porthos breathed as Anna leant forward and, thanking the practicality of three-quarter, tight sleeves on her dress, pressed the cloth to the still bleeding hold, trying to ignore the increased pants from Treville.

"Send for Lemay."

* * *

"Do you think it might be the same person who killed the archbishop?"

"I don't know." D'Artagnan's voice was distant as he secured the door behind the Princess and fought the urge to flee from the palace. "It could be nothing more than a coincidence."

"You should go to him."

"I won't leave you unprotected." He promised, despite how much he wanted to bolt from the room and head to the Garrison where every other Musketeer was currently congregating. "Not for a moment." He added as he thought of how Treville would rebuke him for leaving his post during such an unsafe time for the Princess.

"Are you any closer to finding the archbishop's killer?" She asked as she took a seat on the bed and D'Artagnan moved to glance out the window.

"We believe there to be a connection to the Red Guards." He told her. "He might even be inside the palace itself."

"Dear God…" She breathed. "…someone close to the King is a traitor?"

"It's possible." He murmured, shaking his head to clear all images of Constance running to him as news of Anna and Aramis unexpectedly racing from the palace had reached her. "No harm will come to you." He said as he finally turned back to her and wondered, not for the first time today, what this woman had done (apart from simply being the King's cousin) to warrant such a bounty on her head. "You have my word."

* * *

She wasn't sure how much longer Treville was going stay conscious. She'd been dabbing away the blood spilling from the corner of his mouth and whispering to him to try and make him comfortable but all she'd received in return was a shaky smile and the tight clench of her hand as she passed him; the coldness of his hand breaking her heart.

"He was shot in the back. And the ball's still in there." She looked up at Aramis' words and felt a small shred of hope return as Athos led Lemay into the room.

"Lemay is here now, Captain." She whispered to the man from the stool Porthos had placed at the head of the table so she could stay at face level with the man.

"Help me lift him." Lemay instructed and she watched with horrified eyes as Treville let out a low groan as the doctor prodded his shoulder. "You're right; there is no exit wound." He said as Porthos lowered Treville back down. "His uniform must have blunted the shot's impact: he's lucky."

"He is struggling for air." She told him as she smoothed down Treville's hair, hoping her cool hands were comforting on his burning forehead.

"Most probably the ball damaged his lung." Lemay told her and she jumped as a delicate hand rested on her shoulder; she hadn't even seen Constance follow him in. "Our first task is to find and remove it." She matched Constance's grim smile as she rose from her perch and kicked the stool away, making room for the doctor's unofficial assistant to set out his tools.

"I have some practice with musket wounds." Aramis offered as Lemay began removing his doublet.

"I bow to your superior experience." Lemay said as Aramis grimly took his place at the table, eyes fixed on the wound before him. "This won't be pretty, Constance, you don't have to stay." He told the woman who was trying to not focus on who was laid out before them.

"Dr Lemay asked me to assist him." She told him, her hands immediately steadying.

"Madame Bonacieux's help will be invaluable." Lemay said with a small smile as he joined the table. "She's already saved one life I might have lost." The pair shared another tight smile as images of the feverish Dauphin filled Anna's mind and she relaxed into the hand that had come to rest on her lower back.

Glancing up at Athos she noted the tightness in his face and curled into his hold, her and coming to rest on his chest as they watched.

"Boiling water." Lemay instructed and Constance scuttled off to the roaring fire and the pot of water Anna had instructed be placed there.

"I've already cleaned the wound." Aramis said with a frown, gesturing to the blood-less hole and small bottle of alcohol beside Treville.

"It's not for him; it's for my equipment." Lemay said as a bowl of steaming water was placed onto the table top. "I find that if I bathe my instruments in boiling water first, my patients have a much greater chance of fighting off infection. I have no idea why. I believe it is a blessing from God."

A well-timed splutter from Treville had the man dunking his equipment in and finally starting.

"Ready?" He asked Aramis as Constance used tongs to removed and dry the equipment. "Right…" He waved Porthos and Athos forward.

"…hold him." Aramis instructed and the resulting yell from the Captain had the now alone Anna cringing.

She couldn't bear to watch as the yells continued as Aramis appeared to root around inside of Treville and it was only when the yells turned to groans and the light ping of a musket ball falling into a dish filled the air, did she peel her hands from her eyes.

Athos and Porthos lowered him back to the table and she was wrapped in a strong arm once more as the Captains laboured breaths began to ease but were still gurgling.

"There is fluid in his lung." Lemay muttered as he pressed an ear to the man's back. "We have to drain it."

"How?" Constance voiced the question on all of their minds and Anna felt her fist tighten around the handful of leather she had grabbed as she practically clung to Athos; hating how useless she was.

"Much the same way one would drain a keg of wine."

"My skills are exhausted." Aramis told him as he wiped clean his hands. "He's your patient now."

"I need him on his back." The three men were gathered around Treville in an instant and sharing a single look, they flipped him as gently as possible as Lemay crossed to Treville's right. "Be ready to collect the blood." He ordered Constance as Anna found her use returning and pressed a damp cloth to his mouth once more as she gripped his hand, coaxing the Captain to focus on her as Lemay readied himself and Constance stepped forward with another bowl.

"Are you sure this will work?" Aramis asked, watching the doctor intently as he cut into the side of their Captain's chest.

"I have not had occasion to perform this operation before." Lemay told them, focusing on the thin band of blood now seeping from his patient. "But the principle is sound... in theory."

"Oh, well as long we're not trying to save a man's life then." Anna found herself snapping at the man; the quick squeeze of her hand by the Captain shushing her enough as the doctor applied pressure to his cut and Treville's gasps and groans increased again.

"Just think about how you'll be able to use this against the boys when they complain about a small cut whilst in the line of duty." She urged him, forcing a laugh into her voice as her eyes fixed on the blood pouring from him.

"The tube." Aramis handed the doctor the short metal cylinder as Anna continued trying to distract the Captain.

"I'm going to say to you what you said to me after that siege in Epernon…" She began as the Captains eyes flickered over to her and his breathing began to ease. "…the lengths you go to for a day off are remarkable." A strangled laugh left him as he recalled the memory and she smoothed back his hair again as his breathing returned to normal and Lemay stood back

"Secure that with a dressing." He instructed Aramis as Anna perched on the edge of the table and continued to whisper fond memories to the Captain; forcing a smile onto his face as Constance monitored the drain. "Let all the fluids drain out before stitching the wound. Your captain should make a speedy recovery now." Reaching out to take his hand the doctor sighed. "An excellent job."

"Whoever did this to you is going to have to deal with me personally." Treville offered another smile as Porthos appeared at her side; the big Musketeer's face a mix of pure fury and sorrow as Treville's breaths evened out. "Where are you going?" He asked as Athos pushed off from the wall and stalked to the door.

"To find out more about this gift." He said, his voice tight as he took in the sight of his Captain. "Whoever shot him knew where to find him." He wrenched open the door, shocking the gathered Musketeers on the other side into silence as they tried to peer in.

"I'll stay here." Aramis offered as Treville squeezed her hand and mouthed " _Go"._

A quick nod and a smile to the Musketeer and she was sliding from the table and following Porthos and Athos back into the courtyard of the Garrison.

* * *

"She told me she would wear it always." Rochefort let his thumb rub over the small, jewelled crucifix that Marguerite had dropped into his hand as he met her in one of the palace's quieter corridors.

"Who did?" He ignored her as he continued to stare at the piece of jewellery that to him, had been so much more. "You mean the Queen... don't you? You think there is a connection between her and Aramis." He lifted his gaze from the cross and met Marguerite's curious gaze.

"What do you know of that?" She recoiled from the harshness in his voice as his fist closed around the necklace.

"Nothing for certain." She stammered. "Only...the way he looks at her…the way he should have looked at **me** but... never did." He fought an eye-roll at her pathetic yearning for the Musketeer from whom she had stolen this cross. "I have said too much. I'm sorry; it's just my...foolish jealousy."

"Watch them." He ordered, opening his palm once more. "Watch them **every second** and tell me what you discover."

"I beg you. Please... leave me be now."

"It's far too late for that, Marguerite." He took her hand and pressed the crucifix back into it. "Don't you know that? Return this to Aramis: tell him he dropped it in your chambers: he must suspect... **nothing**."

* * *

The people of the Rue Jacob watched on curiously as three horses made their way down the narrow street in a tight line. They all stepped aside respectfully as they eyed the fleur-de-lis pauldrons worn by the male Musketeers at the front and back of the line, but Anna felt their whispers increase as they took in the studded fleur on her own bodice.

 _Maybe I should have changed_ … She mused as they stopped outside the home of the artist where Treville hadn't gotten further than the front door before he was bleeding on the ground.

"That's our captain's blood." Athos murmured as they tied up their horses and watched man scatter dirt over the dark patches on the ground.

"Come on." The hand on his shoulder was gentle yet firm as Anna turned him slightly to the door and gestured for him to lead.

"Monsieur Arnaud?" Porthos' voice filled the entire building as he flung open the doors of the studio on the top floor. "Where is he?" His stare left no room for argument as a visibly nervous man stepped forward.

"The master is painting." He said, his eyes lingering on the heavily armed Musketeers and their commanding stares before coming to rest on the wicked looking rapier hanging from her waist. "He left orders not to be disturbed." Anna rolled her eyes as he stepped lightly into their path to block the wooden archway leading to the room behind him.

A simple nudge of Athos' shoulder had him stumbling aside as the Lieutenant stalked forward and into the back area.

"I think his wishes were ignored long before we arrived." He drawled as Anna and Porthos followed him in; both heaving a sigh at the slumped figure in the corner.

Exchanging glances, the blonde knelt beside the former master of art as the men surveyed the room.

"Is he dead? Master?" Nodding lightly to the now crying apprentice, she removed her fingers from the dead man's throat and rose just as Porthos flicked the broken wood of the open window and turned to face them.

"Whoever killed him came in through here and probably left the same way." He observed, opening the windows fully and peering out.

"The painting! It's gone!" The apprentice stole their attention again as he pointed to an empty easel in the centre of the room.

"What painting?" Anna asked, stepping around the piles of sketches and coming to stand before a large table.

"A portrait of Princess Louise of Mantua." He told them. "It was to be a wedding gift from the King."

"The preparatory sketches?" Anna asked and the man simply nodded to the table she was at.

Quickly rummaging through the collection of charcoal images littering the surface she felt her heart stop as they fingered the edge of a portrait of a very regal looking woman. Holding the paper up for the other Musketeers she swallowed before saying:

"Princess Louise of Mantua."

* * *

Rochefort felt the early thrum of joy as a plan drew together as he stalked through the palace; his mask of indifference perfectly concealing all but the gleam in his eyes as he rested a hand atop the jewelled hilt of the rapier at his side.

He liked having it rest there, he noted as he approached the wing of suites allocated to the palaces' newest guest, it gave him a sense of power and intimidation as the youngest Musketeer stepped forward from his post outside the double doors.

"The chancellor will be arriving shortly." He dispensed with a greeting as the boy eyed him. "Be ready to greet him and escort him inside."

He came to a stop outside the doors as the boy merely watched him; he hated how gormless the Musketeers always looked whenever they were on guard duty – they clearly felt too good for standing outside doors and Rochefort couldn't wait until he finally had the power to permanently situate them outside private quarters and have Aramis strung up in the central courtyard.

He'd have the rest of them stand guard as the King entertained his mistresses; forced to overlook their friend and protest as Red Guards patrolled Paris. These streets needed a bit more red flooding them.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"What about the princess?" He didn't even try to hide his eye-roll at the question.

"She will be under my **personal** protection." He told him with a smirk, the dismissal clear as he stepped forward to place a light knock against the wood; D'Artagnan begrudgingly leaving the corridor.

"Come in, D'Artagnan."

"Not D'Artagnan, I'm afraid." He drawled as he entered the suite; the heavy wooden box falling onto the mattress with a bounce as he flung it there and faced the woman with a half grin.

* * *

"This isn't the woman D'Artagnan is guarding at the palace." Porthos noted as she and Athos leafed through the collection of sketches.

"No wonder they stopped Treville delivering the picture." Athos said as he reached one which clearly stated the object of the sketch. "The deception would have been uncovered the moment anyone saw it."

"But if she isn't Princess Louise, then who is she?" Anna asked, reaching up to massage her temples as she recalled how even the Queen had been fooled.

"And why did they try to kill her this morning?" Porthos added.

"The archbishop was always the target." Athos concluded with a sigh. "And the fake Louise must have been in on the plan."

"But why assassinate a man of God?" Porthos asked, letting the images fall back onto the small desk they had crowded around.

"The archbishop wasn't just a priest." Anna reminded them, following suite and replacing the papers. "He was a senior member of the King's Council."

"So is Chancellor Dupre." Porthos said. "He's on his way to the Louvre for the council meeting." Anna felt her stomach sink as they all came to the same realisation. "He thinks he's safe there."

"Judging by today; he most definitely isn't."

* * *

"My congratulations." Rochefort offered a solitary clap as he faced the woman. "I had to stop myself laughing out loud the way you had the Musketeers fawning all over you."

"I was convincing, wasn't I?" She preened, stepping away from the window and into the centre of the room.

"A princess to the manner born." He agreed, gesturing for her to take charge of the box on the bed.

"Have you disposed of de Barville's body?" She asked, flicking open the latches on the box and opening its lid; a smile settling on her lips at the sight of the crossbow and bolts contained inside.

"Thanks to your friend Francesco, he will be at the bottom of the Seine by now." He watched a small, content smile blossom on her lips at the mention of her love.

Rolling his eyes at the gesture; he once again questioned the practicality of employing a couple, but remembering their smug promise of 'we never fail' he quashed the thoughts.

"Two down, one to go."

"The chancellor will enter the palace by the west gate." He told her; watching closely as she lifted the various elements of the weapon from its case to inspect the work. "You'll have all the time you need; the Musketeers will not be expecting an attack from behind them."

"Poor fools."

* * *

They reached the central courtyard of the palace just as the door to the Chancellor's carriage opened.

"Get back inside! Take cover!" Athos' cried as they urged their horses through the still open gates.

"The assassin's in the palace!" Porthos added as D'Artagnan and Aramis scrambled to get the man back into his carriage.

"Up there!" Anna cried, pointing to the open window of one of the smaller receiving rooms where the head of a retreating shooter could be seen. "Go!" She shouted as Porthos dismounted and followed D'Artagnan into the palace, pistols at the ready while she rode to cover the window-like gap of the carriage.

"Apologies, Chancellor." She breathed as she placed her own body in the way of any possible shot. "This was most certainly not on your schedule for today."

"Ready?" She looked down to Athos as he and Aramis readied their own pistols.

Nodding, she gave a sharp tug on her reins, forcing the horse forward as they pulled open the carriage and all but dragged the Chancellor out.

"I've got you." She called out, pulling her own pistol from a saddle bag and firing as the assassin's head reappeared in the window. "Move!" She shouted, pushing her horse into a trot as she covered the retreating Musketeers and Chancellor. "Aram-"

"I've got him!" The Musketeer called out, noting the second shooter hiding behind a stone arch in the courtyard at the same time as her. "I'm going after him!" He told them, running off to follow the dark haired shooter that too closely resembled the Princess' loyal servant.

That explained the female shooter at least.

"You know this palace better than anyone." She looked to Athos as they all but locked the Chancellor into a state room. "Where would you run?"

She took a moment to slump against a nearby wall and let her mind fill with the map of the palace she'd forced herself to learn during the Queen's pregnancy.

"There's a passage." She told him. "Gated on both sides but it'll be open; if she gets into it…" She trailed off and they shared a glance before she turned and raced down the corridor.

* * *

"Oh, D'Artagnan, if only we'd met under different circumstances." Anna skidded to a stop as she reached one end of the subterranean passage.

"Who are you?" D'Artagnan asked as he stared through the locked bars of the gate she'd clearly used to enter the passage.

"I'm afraid the real Princess Louise never even made it out of Lombardy."

"You mean you killed her?" He asked, eyes wide as he still neglected to notice the female Musketeer peering through the shadows on the other end.

"But on the positive side, I saved her from a dreadful marriage." The fake Princess laughed. "You've no idea how much planning went into getting me inside the Louvre. The key to it, of course, was winning **your** protection." She took a step towards him; a forced sway of her hips and teasing smile clearly making him uncomfortable; Anna had to give it to her - she was good. "That gave me the freedom I needed. So I've done you a favour in return."

"What are you talking about?"

"I like you, D'Artagnan. That's why I've helped you out, you and that pretty Constance." She waved the pistol in her hand around ashes babbled and Anna inched closer and closer to the gate. "I do so **love** a happy ending…look in the state rooms; no need to thank me." She let out another laugh before turning abruptly and jogging towards the open end of the passage.

"Afraid not." The shock on her face was laughable as Anna slammed the gate shut; the lock clicking instantly into place.

"What-"

"Whoever you are, this is **over**." Anna told her as three sets of footsteps appeared behind her. "You lose."

* * *

Every fibre of her being yearned to be with Constance as her mind filled with images of the woman as she'd stepped into the small room and asked why everyone was staring at her and whose blood was coating D'Artagnan's hands as the Musketeers returned to the Garrison.

Bonacieux was a horrible man but even Anna could admit that he probably didn't deserve to be shot by an assassin as he waited to collect his wife. Then again, he was trying to force her from the palace so…maybe a part of him deserved it.

Sighing at the tears that had bloomed in the woman's eyes as the fact that her husband was dead finally hit her, Anna instead let her eyes flicker to the stoic woman beside her as they made their way through the damp and dark dungeon.

"Remind me why I agreed to this?" She asked as they came to a stop outside a cell door.

"Because we're allies now." Helene grinned at her. "And when you asked me to find out who the woman really was; I got back to you within the hour." Anna hummed in response; it was all true she supposed. "Plus, we look much more intimidating together."

Anna rolled her eyes at the statement before retrieving the door key from the ring in her hand.

"Who are you?"

"I have several names. You probably know of me as Milady de Winter." Helene told the prisoner with a smirk as Anna followed her into the room and felt the door swing shut behind them as they faced the recoiling woman as Helene's reputation clearly preceded her.

"And don't tell me you've forgotten who I am already?" She matched Helene's easy grin as the woman blinked at them before launching into her defence.

"You must help me. I am the King's cousin, Princess Louise of Mantua." Anna rolled her eyes at the statement. "And there has been a terrible mistake!"

"We both know your name is Sofia Martinez." Helene told her. "You and your lover Francesco are professional assassins."

"And the only mistake was not better concealing yourself as you shot."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I recognised him this morning." Helene sighed. "Such a small circle; professional assassins." She told Anna, turning from the woman slightly. "We all get to recognise each other. Oh…" She turned back to Sofia. "…he's dead, by the way."

"Put up one hell of a fight though." Anna told her, shocked at how much she as enjoying this seemingly casual conversation she and Helene were keeping up. "Took Porthos all of…a minute to get a blade through him."

"So, you know who we are; you also know what we're capable of."

"Who hired you?" Anna asked as Sofia pulled at the iron cuffs retraining her.

"What will happen to me... if I tell you?"

"I'll release you." Anna shook the ring of keys tauntingly.

"Rochefort." The word was out without a thought and Anna felt her jaw tick at the name. "He supplied the weaponry and identified the targets."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? He's a Spanish spy." Anna's hand tightened around the metal ring as her suspicions were confirmed. "As the cardinal's man, Madrid knew he would be perfectly placed on his return to France. The spy-master Vargas handled it personally."

"The archbishop? The chancellor?"

"He's trying to kill his way to the top." Sofia told them. "He's determined to remove any rival for the King's trust and affection." She shot a pointed look to Milady as the woman's face contorted into rage. "Now...I've told you what you wanted to know; Let me go."

The woman shred a look before Anna nodded solemnly watching from the corner of her eye as Sofia paled at the sight of the dagger Helene was unsheathing.

"You're going to... kill me?!"

"I wasn't... until a moment ago." Helene sighed as she stalked closer to the prisoner. "But now...I think it's best that we **shut** your mouth for good." Anna blinked and suddenly Sofia was on the floor, cradling her bleeding abdomen. "Oh... hush." Helene crouched over her. "Hush now. It'll soon be over."

They waited until the life finally drained from the assassin before exiting the cell and making their way back through the dungeons.

"What are you going to do?" Helene asked as they stepped out into the sunlight. "About Rochefort, I mean."

"I'm going to play his game."

* * *

Sofia's words continued to circle in her head even as she dropped into a curtsey as the King and Queen strolled into the stateroom where the Musketeers and Rochefort were gathered.

"Who were they?" Louis asked waving them from their bows as he and the Queen faced them. "The bogus Princess Louise and her footman?"

"Hired assassins, Sire." Rochefort told him, stepping forward to improve upon the divide between him and the Musketeers.

"But who hired them?"

"With both of them dead, we may never know, Your Majesty." He said and the small smile he offered the Queen further increased Anna's urge to vomit.

"You have no idea who killed her?"

"She was under the protection of the Red Guards." Athos spoke up, a sharp look to Rochefort forcing the man to look a little cowed at the information as the King surveyed them closely. The unsaid: _Rochefort can't lay that one at_ _ **our**_ _doorstep_ , clear in his voice.

"Never mind; she'd have died anyway, at least now we avoid a public execution." The King sighed and Anna wanted to scream at how easily Rochefort continued to evade justice. "Assassins at large in my own palace." He sighed exasperatedly. "Archbishop Jacqueme dead, the Duc de Barville missing: the world has gone mad!"

"The danger is over, Your Majesty: the assassins are dead." Rochefort reminded him. "But, sadly, so is your treaty."

"Poor Louise." There wasn't a trace of sympathy in the King's voice as he lamented the death of his cousin. "But I suppose we can always find someone else to marry our Swedish friend."

"Indeed, sire." Rochefort bowed again. "I'll see to it personally."

"You have handled this matter with great skill, Rochefort." The King said, halting the Comte from leaving them "I'm impressed…the post of First Minister has been vacant long enough. I want you to fill it."

"This is too great an honour, Your Majesty.

"I have already signed the order." Louis waved away the protestations and Anna felt her jaw slacken as Rochefort suddenly got everything he'd been vying for since first setting foot into the palace. "I will hear no argument."

"As Your Majesty commands." His victorious grin was enough to send her reeling.

As the King swept from the room, Rochefort smugly following, she knew that it was time to employ every single one of her skills and wipe the grin from his face…permanently.

* * *

"Earlier on... when I thought I was going to die... I realised... I didn't want to leave this world with any secrets on my conscience." The Captains' voice was still weak as he spoke from the cot in his former office. "Give me a little time to regain my strength... and I will tell you everything you want to know about your father."

"I can wait."

She waited for Porthos to leave his Captain's bedside before emerging from the end of the balcony and slipping into the office.

"Captain." She greeted the man as she secured the door behind her and claimed the sole chair at his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now I'm off that table." He laughed lightly.

"That table saved your life." She reminded him with a tight smile. "If they'd dragged you up here; you'd be dead."

"I can't believe they shot me." He groaned, pressing on the bandages wrapped around his torso.

"Take it as a compliment." She told him. "You were thought important enough to have influence over the King."

"Every cloud…" He sighed.

"I need to talk to you about something." She told him after a moment of silence. "Something very important."

"What's the matter?" he asked with a frown, pushing himself further up the bed to face her properly.

"Rochefort is the new First Minister…" He nodded tightly; the news clearly still a sore spot. "…and I don't trust him."

"You're not the only one An-"

"I need to tell them her…my…story." She told him. "And I need to know I'll still have my commission afterwards."

"Of course." He didn't hesitate to answer her and she felt a small shred of relief. "But you don't have to."

"Yes…I do."

 _Or he will._


	9. The Prodigal Father

To be perfectly honest, Aramis had not expected the day to take this turn. His morning routine had been beautifully undisturbed and he was starting to think that Anna might be right about the merits of waking up in your own bed especially as he didn't have to run down a flight of stairs half naked with only one boot in hand…but enough about last Friday. No, this morning had been…perfect.

He'd strolled to the Garrison and was greeted by a steaming bowl of porridge over which he was regaled with stories from his fellow Musketeers.

He'd even had enough time to undertake one his favourite games: make sweet Antoinette blush. It wasn't something he did regularly; the fact that it took far too much time to get her suitably riled and if done too often could lead to her not responding anymore, but it was a definite winner and even D'Artagnan had joined in – clearly enjoying not being the subject of ridicule for once.

It had taken him nearly forty minutes, but eventually she was bright red and fuming and he was blue in the face with laughter. Athos 'stern' words after just added to the amusement and he was embracing her threat of payback with open arms.

It had all gone to hell in a hand basket quite quickly after that.

Obviously Porthos' absence from breakfast had been noted but the burliest Musketeer had been a little withdrawn lately (though he was adamant about no discussing why) and so they had chalked it up to that.

It wasn't.

Apparently he'd been with Treville; his presence in the Captain's office made clear only when shouting emanated from the closed room. The door had been promptly thrown open and a scowling Porthos stalked down into the Garrison with only a gruff growl as a greeting.

Aramis felt a little honoured that he was the only one Porthos had asked to accompany him on this trip he now found himself on and so was trying to not push it when it came to questions.

So far he'd managed to weasel out of him 3 things: they were going to meet his father, Treville had known who he was for a long time and, unsurprisingly; Porthos was angry.

And that's how he found himself here; on a dirt road 2 hours outside of Paris with an eerily silent Musketeer heading towards said Musketeer's father's home. Thank God he wasn't hungover; he wasn't sure he could have figured it all out otherwise.

He was relieved to finally see the beginnings of an estate as they crossed a small wooden bridge and headed for a set of incredibly tall wrought iron gates.

"This looks fanc-" Aramis cut himself off as two girls appeared from nowhere and skidded to a stop on the other side of the fence.

"Get away from the gate!" The girls pressed themselves to the bars as a jet black horse and its rider stopped a hairs breath from them. "What do you think you're doing?!" The rider shouted and Aramis felt the protestation to his next action rise up his throat before it even happened.

"What's going on here?" Porthos demanded; the girls' screams filling the air as the rider lashed out at them with the riding whip in his hand.

"What business is it of yours?" He asked, moving his horse slightly away from the girls as Aramis and Porthos stopped just outside the gates.

"What have these girls done?" Aramis asked, his eyes never leaving the cowering children as Porthos no doubt fixed the rider with his well-known stare.

"They're my wife's maids." He explained, his grip tightening slightly on the whip. "They stole from her." He wasted no time in striking the nearest child again. "Move it! Now!"

"Is this true?" Aramis leant forward to peer at the girl still gripping the bars separating them. Her lips pursed and eyes on the brink of crying he knew it was all lies but with a stiff nod, she wretched herself from the bars and stood at the riders' feet; her body still shaking with fear.

"Now, tell me what you want here."

"We've come to see the Marquis de Belgard." Porthos told him, the title still a shock to Aramis; he definitely hadn't been expecting aristocracy and judging by Porthos disbelieving tone when he'd first told him – neither had he.

"Then you've wasted your time; he doesn't receive visitors."

"He'll receive me."

* * *

The house was absolutely massive. That was Aramis' first and only thought as they rode slowly towards the grand yet slightly dilapidated house and rode through into its empty courtyard.

Glancing around at the lack of servants among the marble statues Aramis couldn't help but feel a small shiver slide down his spine; a house like this juxtaposed with the whip wielding maniac that was now nowhere to be seen, didn't sit quite right with him.

Porthos, however, seemed to have no such qualms and was off his horse and striding to the front door like a shot.

The rest of the house was just as eerie. There wasn't a single sound as they entered and made their way up a staircase; the lack of candle light and not even the lightest of footsteps suggesting this estate was completely abandoned; even Athos with all of his hate for Pinon hadn't let his house fall into such a dilapidated state (fire damage aside).

"What the hell do you want?"

Aramis would deny to anyone who asked the fact that he jumped at the bodiless voice suddenly filling the corridor they were walking down, but the fleeting wry smile Porthos cast to him assured him it wouldn't be forgotten quickly.

"I'm looking for the Marquis de Belgard." Porthos addressed the voice and the resounding footsteps gave way to a man; his hair long and bedraggled with scruffy clothing.

"You've found him." The man gestured to himself. "Who are you?"

"My name is Porthos." Aramis felt himself take a breath during Porthos' pause and hoped to God this went well. "I'm your son."

* * *

"A long time ago, I did something cruel...and unforgiveable to Porthos and his mother." It seemed to actually pain Treville as he spoke, Anna noted as she, Athos and D'Artagnan gathered around him in the small corner of his former office he now called home.

They had high-tailed it up to the office mere seconds after Porthos had furiously ridden out of the Garrison, sparing none of them an explanation or even an mere glance back. Aramis' confused look as he followed did nothing to quell their growing concern and though it had taken nearly two hours and the threat of leaving him to die from unchanged bandages; they were finally getting an explanation from the man Porthos had seemed so eager to escape.

"I did it in the name of friendship, but it's a stain on my honour I can never remove…and I have spent every moment since trying to atone for it." He told them; his words still vague as he followed through on his insistence that it was not his story to tell. "Porthos needs your loyalty, now more than ever."

"Our loyalty to Porthos is unwavering." She reminded him, taking a seat in the chair D'Artagnan was leaning on.

"It would, however, help if we knew what was going on." The boy added.

"If you knew Belgard was his father, why didn't you tell him?" Athos asked and they watched as Treville hung his head slightly, rubbing at his eyes tiredly before responding:

"I had my reasons." He met their eyes one by one. "Good ones."

* * *

"Who told you?" Belgard spoke first as they entered what Porthos could only assume to be his study.

"Captain Treville of the Musketeers." He told him, glancing back to the open door and hoping Aramis didn't wander off from where they'd left him.

"Treville?" Belgard snorted. "It was his treachery that ruined my life."

"That's my Captain you're slandering." He said quickly; his instinct to protect the Captain still firmly in place despite everything. "Aramis and I are Musketeers." He explained as Belgard opened the interior shutters on the vast windows of the room; the sun immediately settling on the pauldron he wore with pride.

"If you knew what I do; you would not take your Captain at his own value." Belgard said as he lowered himself into the main chair behind the desk. "What else did he tell you about me?"

"Not much."

"You don't know the story of the infamous Marquis de Belgard?" Porthos shook his head. "I was captain of the royal bodyguard the day the present King's father was assassinated." He opened his arms wide at the comparison of his former role to the mess he now lied in. "Henri died at the hands of a lunatic and a scapegoat was required: I was court-marshalled." He sighed. "Treville and De Foix both gave false evidence and-"

"With all due respect…" Porthos cut him off, refusing to get caught up in the web of lies that obviously hung between the three men. "…that's not why I'm here."

"You want to know if I'm your father." Belgard said after a pause; the old man's eyes scouring Porthos' face. "I believe I am: you have the look of your mother about you: Marie-Cessette, the love of my life." Porthos felt his fists ball at the glib way this stranger spoke about his beloved mother.

"The _love of your life_ died abandoned and in despair in the slum they call The Court of Miracles." He told him, ignoring the bite to his words and how much he wanted them to hurt this man who claimed to love her so much.

"If I had only known, I would have moved heaven and earth to find you." Porthos watched him closely wanting to believe the truth in those words. He glanced around the room and thought of the sheer size of the estate he was stood on; what life could he and his mother have had here? Would she still be alive?

"You and your friend must stay for dinner." Belgard announced, breaking Porthos from his reverie. "We have much to talk about." He nodded at that. "And you should meet your half-sister."

* * *

The rumbling of thunder and the spits of rain falling from the skies provided what Constance felt were apt weather conditions for the task at hand. She couldn't believe she was here; kneeling in the soon to be muddy grass and staring at what should be her freedom.

He didn't deserve this end, she kept telling herself. Nobody deserved to die like that. The Queen had told her to be proud that he died protecting France and reminded her that she was now a free woman.

Free.

Everyone seemed to be throwing that word around lately. She was _free_ to be with whomever she wanted; _free_ of Bonacieux; _free_ to be her own woman.

Anna was the only one who hadn't said it. In fact, the blonde hadn't said anything; she had merely sat with her on the small bed in the house Constance had once been excited to be mistress of, and held her hand.

She couldn't shed a tear for him, couldn't find it in herself to grieve as much as people deemed necessary for a widow. And she hated herself for it. Had she ever loved him? Yes. Once: when he had offered her more than she ever thought possible.

But had it truly been love? She wasn't sure. It wasn't the same as how she felt when she was with D'Artagnan but it couldn't be denied that for all their disagreements, she and Bonacieux had been…companions.

They'd been there for each other when they had no one in the whole world. So yes, she loved him; loved what they had once been, who they had once been. But, as Anna had said when she wailed about not being able to grieve for him; they weren't the same people. Life had changed them both.

"Bonacieux wasn't a bad man." She told D'Artagnan as she joined him in the stone walkway that bordered the cemetery; providing cover on days like today. "Just...frustrated: he felt he deserved something better...better than me, anyway." And he had, in the end; she'd been a terrible wife.

"You have no reason to feel guilty." His defence of her was immediate and she offered him a small smile before reminding him exactly why she was so…miserable.

"I didn't love him and I was unfaithful: there's two reasons." She forced a laugh. "What right do we have to take advantage of this? How can anything good come of it?"

And that's what it came down to. Anna had helped her see that. She had spent so long fighting against Bonacieux as he denied her happiness and she and D'Artagnan were finally ready to just be together, despite her husband. And now he was dead. And she had the exact opportunity she'd wanted since their first kiss but…it felt like even more of a betrayal to be with D'Artagnan when Bonacieux's body wasn't even cold in the ground.

"I'm glad he's dead." She felt her eyes widen at D'Artagnan's truth. "I'm sorry, but why should we mourn him? Fate has given us a chance to be happy. If we don't take it, who gains?"

"I need time, D'Artagnan." She told him, stepping back from his outstretched hands. "The Queen needs me now: Rochefort is growing more powerful by the day and-"

"I won't let anything happen to you." She watched as he silently pled with her to take his hand but with a small breath she stuck to her words.

"I need time."

"When Bonacieux was alive, you couldn't leave him. Now he's dead, you still can't?" She understood his disbelief at her apparent change of mind. "Take all the time you need, but remember - when you finally make up your mind and you want me, I might not be there anymore."

Watching him walk away from her was heart-wrenching. She wanted him more than anything in the entire world. But who was she if she simply cast aside Bonacieux and denied him a single mourner?

She needed time, yes, but not for what D'Artagnan believed. She needed time to figure out who Constance Bonacieux was when the Bonacieux part of her identity was…gone.

* * *

It had taken a lot of time and planning but everything was finally falling into place. He was the **only** person the King trusted and so the **only** person who saw every weakness the house of Bourbon had. Increasing power, the King's ear and a Musketeer as a personal toy; France was soon to be his.

"I'm not safe anywhere." The King's voice was as small as a child's as Rochefort slowly approached the blanket covered bundle huddled by the fireplace. "They're trying to kill me like they did my father." The King's eyes peered at Rochefort over the trim of the blanket he curled into. "We must remain vigilant; cancel my public appearances and have my food tasted – of all deaths I fear poisoning the most."

The paranoia was a new symptom of the declining royal and Rochefort was surprised by how effective it was. The more the King withdrew to prevent assassination; the closer he allowed Rochefort. Fool.

"I will personally taste every dish." He promised Louis as he came to kneel before the King. "Now…" He placed the two sheets of paper he held on the floor between them. "…if Your Majesty could just sign these; I will ensure your government proceeds as normal."

Rochefort watched with growing delight as the man-child didn't even glance at the power he was signing away and simply handed back the documents.

"Rochefort, you are the first of my subjects since the Cardinal's death who truly anticipates my needs."

"I live to serve you, Sire."

* * *

"To my son, Porthos: who was lost and is found." The air in the dining room was icy as Porthos lifted his glass to join his father in toast.

It was still so strange; to be using the word father around this man. Sometimes the light from the fireplace would catch him and the small similarities they shared would quell his nerves for a moment or two until memories of his dying mother filled his mind again.

"Raise your glass, Eleanor." Belgard's warning drew Porthos' gaze to the red-head opposite him who had done nothing but scowl since they had been introduced.

"I understand." Porthos said quietly as she silently refused the order and continued to glare at him/ "It's a lot to take in but-"

"My wife is not related to you!" Ah Levesque – Aramis' assumption that the rider who had 'greeted' them was a servant to the Marquis could not have been further from the truth.

"Forgive him, Porthos: my son-in-law comes from trade and lacks any breeding." Belgard's sneer to Levesque was further planting him in Porthos' god books. Perhaps he could get used to having a father around to defend him. "I loved this man's mother and will not have him abused."

"You say you loved his mother..." Aramis began as Levesque reluctantly controlled his desire to rage against Porthos. "…what happened?" Porthos' hand tightened around the glass he was still hoping to drink from if his half-sister decided to join the toast, as Aramis took the bull by the horns and asked what Porthos had simply been dancing around since meeting Belgard.

His mother and the memory of her dying in a slum was the only thing that had motivated him for years. The image had fuelled him as a soldier and it was only when Treville had practically scooped him off the cobbles and given him the King's commission did he start to let go of the anger he felt over the injustice of her death.

Belgard's clear hatred of said man was why he wanted to stay firmly on the fringes of this conversation. Could the man he had looked to as a father for longer than he could remember been the one who kept him from his true destiny?

"She came to this house as a servant." Belgard began; placing his glass onto the table top as he clearly decided now was the right time to tell this story. "We fell in love and married in secret. After you were born, my father discovered the truth and ordered me to cast you both aside." He reached for Porthos' hand and squeezed lightly. "I refused." They shared a smile. "A few days later...you and your mother disappeared: Treville and de Foix were in league with my father. They told me you were dead. I never stopped thinking of you." He retracted his hand shakily as Porthos closed his eyes in disbelief.

Treville and de Foix. Two men of honour.

He felt his own hands ball into fists as every memory he had of Treville encouraging him was immediately tainted. The guilt his supposed Captain must have felt…no wonder he had denied him knowledge of his true parentage.

"But in the end, and for the sake of my family name... I married this girl's mother." Belgard nodded to Eleanor. "She has her looks, but also her character: shrewish and spiteful."

"Apologise, damn you!" Levesque was on his feet this time as Eleanor seemed to struggle to digest the insult.

"Look, whoa, whoa... Just sit down, eh?" Porthos tried to calm the situation; he understood their shock at discovering another member of the family, but surely all dinners in this household weren't so…rage fuelled? "I didn't come here to cause a fight."

"We know why you came here!" Levesque sneered at him, digging into his pocket and flinging a handful of coins at the Musketeer. "There! Take your hand-out and go!"

"I'm giving you a chance." He felt himself slip into the façade he always used when faced with conflict as his voice lowered and his eyes zeroed in on Levesque – his gaze unrelenting. "Sit down now and we'll let this pass."

Levesque nodded slightly before leaning across the table and promptly spitting at the Musketeer. Aramis' outraged cry filled the air forcing Levesque back as he handed Porthos the handkerchief he was never without.

Porthos took a moment as he was dabbing at his face, to decide the best course to deal with this jumped up man. Passing the cloth back to Aramis, he slowly rose from his chair and smiled at Levesque.

"You brought this on yourself." The threat was clear to all in the room and Porthos calmly stepped away from the table and towards the open space in front of the fire place as Levesque seemed to rile himself up with every step.

The voice in his head was telling him to calm down; that violence probably wasn't the best way to endear himself to his new family, but, as he saw Eleanor clearly side with her husband as he shrugged out of his doublet and realised the voice sounded alarming like Treville…he quashed it.

He saw the punch come from a mile away. Levesque was too cocky to use any sort of sub-defuse and so, with a deft twist of his wrist, Porthos was flinging the lunging man away from him and into the Musketeer's abandoned seat.

The second wasn't much better and as Porthos defected, he landed a neat blow with little effort.

"You savage!" He barely heard Eleanor as Levesque fell to the floor and not for the first time; Porthos was impressed with the strength he could put behind one blow.

He stepped back again as Levesque got to his feet; this tactic of letting your opponent tire themselves out was a favourite of his. It allowed him time to assess them before landing the winning blow when they were at their most useless.

In seconds he hand his knee coming up to knock him squarely in the chest as his hands came down in one solid fist onto his spine. Levesque was on the floor for much longer this time.

"Porthos…" He shook his head as Aramis called out to him; the urge to keep stalking the man too great as his blood pumped with the rush of a fight. "…Porthos: that's enough..." Aramis spoke again; his words clearer as they penetrated the red mist that had descended in Porthos' mind. "…unless you want to kill him."

Kill. It was the word that always stopped him. He'd never had the taste for it and Aramis knew him well enough to know when he was nearing the end of his fuse.

He stepped back as Levesque groaned on the floor and shot his best friend a grateful nod.

"A champion, at last." He flinched as a hand came to rest on his shoulder and it took him a moment to register it was Belgard as they both looked down upon the bloody man. "A son to defend my honour." The pride in his voice made him want to vomit.

* * *

The bowing and scraping of the court was something Rochefort was more than used to by now but it wasn't getting old, not in the slightest. In fact; it was possible he was getting even more of a kick out of it as they continued to bow to him not knowing how powerful he was becoming in between every encounter.

The man who had walked to the King's suites this morning had not been the same one who had left them; he was more powerful than anyone else in the entirety of France and the King was soon to be nothing more than a figure head and the Queen would be his for the taking.

Smiling as pleasantly as possible he dismissed the member of the King's council with only the wave of a hand and turned his attention to the woman slowly making her way into his office.

He hid a grin at how guarded her once confident footsteps now were and was glad she had learnt her lesson as to who has the most control at court. It had taken so little to have her removed and the sight of Antoinette escorting her down the staircase…it had given him a high he was not yet recovered from.

"Milady de Winter." He acknowledged her as he waved another council member in behind her and focused on the papers he was presenting. "I owe you an apology." The words clearly took her by surprise as she stilled and stared at him with wide eyes. "The last time we saw each other, my behaviour was…crude and over-hasty." He glanced up from the papers and watched as she shifted on her feet as her face tried to remain impassive. He tried to imagine the sight before her and smiled to himself; it must be so…intimidating.

He had chosen to summon her at this time for a reason; he'd be busy. If there was one thing Rochefort knew he was good at, it was intimidation. Slumped lazily in the huge chair he was being constantly bombarded by council men and their 'important' papers and would be unable to give her his full attention; it would infuriate the woman who thought so much of herself and he had witnesses to anything she said in an effort to turn the tables on him.

"We can help each other; you and I."

"You stripped me of everything I owned including a valuable gift from the King." She reminded him unable to keep the venom from her voice. "And then you gave it to a Musketeer." She sneered as she spoke of Anna and he felt another smile bloom at the memory of the growing fury on this woman's face as he'd flippantly handed the Musketeer a priceless necklace.

"I'll see it is returned." He told her, casually signing another paper and dismissing the man. "You must understand; there was a murderer on the loose."

"A female assassin? Shocking." She shot him appointed look as the council man departed. "And working for the Spanish, presumably?"

"Why do you say that?" He kept his voice calm as the black of the council man's robes disappeared around his door and left them alone.

"Who else stood to gain?" The small, smug smile on her lips told him all she needed to know; Sofia Martinez's death was not due to Red Guard incompetence…how problematic. "Remarkable that she was able to smuggle herself so easily into the very heart of government…one might suspect she had inside help."

The snap of his fingers made her jump slightly as he dismissed the council member who had appeared at his door – this conversation was suddenly of more priority to the Comte and she knew it.

"Musketeer incompetence was to blame." He told her, rising from his chair as the office doors were closed. "My job is to see it never happens again: the King must be protected at all costs." He perched on the edge of his desk, a few wisps of breath separating them as she remained stood. "The Musketeer Aramis; what do you know of him?"

"Aramis? Why?"

"There are rumours about his conduct; his romantic affairs."

"It's true women are fond of him, for some reason." She shrugged at the thought. "He's sleeping with the royal governess; Lady Marguerite."

"I know that." He rolled his eyes at this 'information' that most of the court probably knew. "You've heard nothing of any connection with the Queen herself?"

"The Queen and Aramis?" She asked in disbelief. "You're mad."

"Find out anything you can; rumours, evidence, even the faintest hint of gossip." He dismissed her disbelief and rose before meandering back to his seat.

"If Aramis slept with the Queen…it would be treason." She reminded him as he settled into the huge chair.

Treason for him and a broken marriage for her…if only there was a loving Comte happy to overlook her indiscretions?

* * *

Aramis was still struggling to shake the uneasy feeling that had descended upon him when they first entered the Marquis de Belgard's estate and dinner had done little to make his worry for his best friend diminish.

He still couldn't quite believe how…angsty Levesque seemed to be. What sort of person immediately decides that a fist fight is the right way to deal with a dinner dispute? And for Belgard to just sit through it…

He shook his head and instead focused on making his way down the stone staircase he'd been assured would lead to some sort of fresh air in this oppressive house.

Stepping out into the courtyard he frowned as a horse and cart drew up in front of him with its cargo looking eerily similar to something he was all too used to seeing. Gently he lifted the corner of the white sheet and felt all breath leave him as the body of one of the young girls from the gate was revealed.

"A terrible accident." He flinched as the owner of a sickly voice he now associated with the mad household of the Marquis joined him. "Poor Martine." Instinctively he was removing his hat and reaching for the crucifix he always wore, his eyes only flitting briefly to Eleanor. "She took a fatal kick from a horse: it's all very sad."

"A kick?" He asked, looking up at her with a frown. "Look at her throat." He lifted the cloth again and gestured to the dark marks littering her pale skin. He was sure that if he reached out they would mirror the size of his own adult hand; this was no kick.

"The foolish girl slipped from a horse and became entangled in the reins." Eleanor told him with a blasé shrug. "She was dragged under the animal's hooves." He held her stare in disbelief as she smiled sweetly at him; happy to cover up this obvious murder.

"Where are you taking her?"

"To her parents, for burial." She reached out and smoothly flicked the cloth back over her body. "It's the least we can do." He felt sick to his stomach as she instructed the cart driver to move on before swishing back into the house.

The casual disregard for the child and her demise was far too…practised for Aramis' liking. And as he now related every child to the one currently living in the palace and watching the world through eyes too much like his own…he wasn't going to let this go, especially when he knew there was another girl somewhere on this estate…

* * *

"You know…" Anna glanced up from the glass in her hand as a figure appeared at her table in the quiet tavern. "…You're a very difficult person to find." She snorted at the wording and gestured for her guest to take a seat in the inn on the outer-most skirts of Paris.

"I should hope so." She flashed them a smile. "This is a secret meeting after all."

"Are you pleased to see me?"

Anna studied the woman before her and chose not to comment on the growing bags under her eyes or the small tears in her clothing – she was used to seeing the eminent Milady de Winter in far more regal dress and knew that the woman herself was probably glad to be meeting in secret.

"Delighted." She drawled as Helene filled her cup and promptly drained it: life outside the palace was clearly taking its toll. "It's the highlight of my week." She signalled for the innkeeper to bring another glass, she clearly wasn't getting that one back, and a new bottle. "What do you want?"

"Suppose I have information about Rochefort?" Helene asked as the innkeeper left their table. "Information that might ensure his downfall." She reached forward and Anna watched in amusement as she pulled the bottle's cork out with her teeth and began pouring a new round of drinks. "What will you give me in return?"

"My undying gratitude."

"I was thinking of something more…tangible."

"You know; working together usually means the free trade of information." Anna reminded her, happy to simply play with her drink as Helene continually drank from hers.

"Free trade won't put a roof over my head tonight."

"Not my problem." Anna shrugged. "I've no money for bribes."

"Then speak to Treville; this information is worth paying for."

"If you know something, speak out." Anna said lowly to the woman, her hand reaching out and stopping the assassin from pouring herself another drink. "For the sake of France."

"I want 100 livres." Anna merely laughed as she released Helene's hand. "I'm not joking."

"That only makes it more funny."

"Give me what I want and I won't go to Athos and drop a few hints about a budding relationship between his beloved and a certain Comte."

"Tell him." Anna shrugged and watched as Helene lost the only card she had to play. "Rochefort put on one hell of a show while Sofia Martinez was swanning around; Athos is more than wary now."

She told her ignoring how every true word was like a punch to her gut; Athos had been more than distant since the assassin was captured and now she was trying to keep both him and Porthos out of her business.

"But let's just consider how that plays out…" She took a drink. "…you tell him, he tells Treville and the others; they go to Rochefort who spills everything and I'm cast out…but they still won't save you when the time comes because you're a rat and more than that; you're an untrustworthy, murderous rat who tried to get them all hung." She flashed her another smile. "So, want to try that threat again?"

"100 livres."

"Rochefort will slit your throat the first chance he gets."

"100 livres."

"If you can't do it for France, do it for your own salvation – God knows you need something to redeem you." Helene simply stared at her as her words hung in the air. "My God…" Anna breathed as the woman simply emptied the last of the wine into her glass. "…there really is nothing in you left to save, is there?" She picked up her hat from the seat beside her and rose. "Good day, Helene."

The resulting flinch she always gave upon hearing her name was all the goodbye Anna was ever going to get. Looks like she was in this on her own.

* * *

Work was always the one thing that kept Constance from despair as Bonacieux had stamped around their home complaining about every little thing he felt was a sign of a lower social caste. She had thrown herself into cooking and cleaning and shopping at the market to stop her mind from lingering on every little thing that he spat at her.

It was ironic, she thought, that now she was using it to stop herself from thinking of his grave. That wooden cross with his name scrawled in her own hand was constantly at the forefront of her mind and honestly, she was glad it was stopping the replay of D'Artagnan's harsh words at the cemetery.

So yes, a good healthy combination of working her fingers to the bone and the image of her husband's grave; that's what was keeping her busy as she left the Queen's wing and jumped at the sight of another person in the usually empty corridor leading to the official exit of the suites.

"Doctor Lemay?" She frowned at the man and his position in the anterior corridor. "Have you come to visit the Dauphin?" She asked racking her brain for any mention of the doctor coming to visit.

"No, Madame…it was you I came to visit." She let out a breath at the fact the Dauphin was not ill again but felt her frown deepen as she registered his words.

"Me?" She asked as he stepped forward to join her in her journey from the Queen's suite to the nursery.

"Your fortitude in the face of tragedy has been admirable." He said as he matched her quick pace and followed her into the Dauphin's room. "The death of a beloved husband and the loss of the security of marriage will be a double blow to you."

"My husband and I were not in love, but thank you for your sympathy." She told him, beginning to tire of having to explain her…grief.

"I always find your candour very bracing." She turned from the crib to face him; eyebrow raised as he fidgeted slightly. "It is an unusual quality and...most attractive."

"You didn't always think so." She told him and a sheepish smile bloomed on his features.

"Perhaps not." He agreed and she couldn't help but smile. "But in time, I have come to appreciate what a truly original person you are. I believe you and I could be content together." She felt her breath hitch as his words began to reach their meaning. Stepping past him she walked into the Dauphin's anterior room and paled at the thought of what was to come as he took her hands. "I wish to offer you the comfort you deserve and I hope; lively companionship too."

She felt bad as her only response was to stare at him. She felt her mouth move but not a sound came out and so instead she lowered her eyes and let her hands fall from his; hoping he would get the message.

"You need more time." He realised and she felt even worse at the sad note in his voice. "I understand…I'm sure this is all very unexpected."

"Yes: that's certainly true." She mumbled as he claimed her hands again and she watched wide eyed as he pressed a kiss to them.

"Forgive me." He took a step back. "I am not used to expressing myself in romantic terms." He offered her a smile. "But I do love you - and I believe I can make you very happy."

And she believed it too. She and Lemay had come to be…friends? She wasn't quite sure but she admired him and enjoyed that he allowed her to assist as much as possible. It was nice to be more than just another woman around him; it was the same reason she loved the Musketeers so much – they saw through her dresses and fancy hair and made her feel welcome.

But Lemay was no D'Artagnan and D'Artagnan was making her feel guilty for Bonacieux.

Maybe a convent would be easier than dealing with all of this?

* * *

He'd tracked the second girl back into Paris and had watched with disgust as Levesque practically dragged her from the cart they'd driven to the city and led her into a large house in one of Paris' more prominent areas.

"Was she being forced?" That was Athos' first question and Aramis sighed as he flung his hat onto one of the tables in the Garrison's small dining area.

"She could have gone willingly but…" Images of the dead girl filled his mind. "…she seemed scared to me."

"This house Levesque took her to: what's it like?" Treville asked, falling into a chair and pouring himself a drink.

"Private, unassuming: respectable enough." He admitted as he took a few slices of bread that had been left out and joined Treville at a table as D'Artagnan perched atop the next.

"They could have found her a new position?" He offered but Aramis shook his head.

"I don't believe it; what about the dead girl?"

"Could it have been an accident?" Athos asked as Aramis made himself a sandwich.

"Trust me; she was murdered."

"Belgard." Treville sighed at the name. "If I never hear that man's name again, it would be too soon."

"There's nothing connecting him directly to the girls." Aramis told them through a mouth full of bread. "That seems to be Eleanor and her husband's game."

"Porthos should know about this." Anna sighed, choosing not to laugh at the fact that she as the one advocating for telling him the truth.

"He'd think we were trying to poison him against his father."

"Captain, why don't you simply tell him the truth?" Anna asked and Aramis raised an eyebrow at the light snort that left Athos at the word 'truth'. She turned to the Musketeer and spoke pointedly. "Whatever you did, there must be a **good explanation**." Clearly he'd missed something but no one else seemed to notice the gap between the pair that were usually tied at the hip.

"He has to find out for himself." Treville told them, and Aramis frowned at the stare the pair still held. "It's the only way."

"Then we find out as much as possible." Aramis said glad that the formation of a plan seemed to break Anna and Athos out of their little bubble. "And then we involve him."

* * *

They were finally alone in the unfamiliar house and while Aramis' hasty departure from the estate (stating something about business in Paris) was nagging at his mind, he was as eager as a puppy when Belgard suggested they spend some time together.

Lowering himself into one of the two chairs that had been positioned next to the roaring fire he and Levesque had brawled in front of only hours earlier, he was ready to face the questions he'd been asking for as long as he could remember.

"Why would the Captain tell you my mother and I were dead?" He barely gave Belgard chance to pour a drink before he was sat eagerly awaiting an answer.

"Treville and De Foix hated your mother."

"Why?" He had finally got an audience with the person who could fill every gap in his life and he wasn't going to be confined by vague answers.

"Jealousy, or something worse. Who knows?" Belgard said, falling back into a slump. "But they plotted with my father to dispose of her…and you." He paused, his fingers dancing along the rim of his cup. "Of course, they **said** they cared only for my reputation and family name." He shook his head at the words. "They kidnapped you in the dead of night and told your mother they would slit your throat if she tried to contact me again."

"I've known the Captain a long time." Porthos said, shaking his head as he struggled to match Belgard's – his father's, words with the image of his Captain. "I don't recognise the man you're describing. I mean, he made me a Musketeer." Belgard swallowed a mouthful of wine, nodding solemnly before leaning forward.

"Why do you imagine he showed you such favour?" He asked. "Might it have been the stirring of a guilty conscience? He came to you, I take it?"

"I was in the infantry." Porthos told him, doubt clouding the words of a story he'd always told with pride. "I won myself a bit of a reputation. He turned up one day and he...he offered me a commission in the Musketeers."

"And that never struck you as odd?" Belgard asked with a huff of laughter. "Go to him. Ask him if it's true that he abandoned you in the Court of Miracles." He pressed, leaning back in the chair. "Make him tell you why he picked you to promote, above all others."

"Yeah, I will." Porthos said; his eyes downcast as he slowly began to let his words sink in. He **had** been abandoned and Treville **had** been reluctant to tell him who his father was. Could his mentor have cast him into a slum?

"But remember, he will seek to paint himself the hero of a sordid tale."

"Eleanor and Levesque..." He quickly changed the topic; desperate to stop the rot that was eating into all of his memories. "They bully and abuse you in your own house. Why do you let them do it?"

"Should I exile them and end my days alone? I've already lost one family, Porthos. Must I renounce another?"

* * *

"Monsieur and Madame Levesque." The man facing him hadn't even had time to fully the door before Aramis was grinning down at him and practically inside the grand house he had tracked the vile couple to.

"I'm sorry…" He tried in vain to shut the Musketeer out. "…my Master and Mistress aren't here at present." Aramis flashed him a smile before stepping around him and striding into the house.

"I want to see the girl that brought here from the Belgard estate this morning." He told him, casually sliding off his gloves as the servant jogged to catch him and stop him from wandering further into the house. "Young, slim, pretty: you know who I mean."

"Sir, the entertainment doesn't start until ten this evening." If he wasn't already sceptical about the goings on of the Levesque couple and this house then the servant's use of 'entertainment' in relation to the young girl was definitely a red flag.

"Just bring her to me." A quick slide of his eyes to the pauldron on his arm had the servant bounding up the stairs calling behind him for Aramis to follow.

He left him in a room with two sets of doors leading out into other chambers. The house had seemed perfectly normal until he'd focused on the walls around him.

It was fortunate he was a worldly man; D'Artagnan or any other lesser Musketeer would likely be blushing furiously by now – the graphically naked paintings of women frolicking around were surrounding him.

He was starting to clue into exactly what this 'entertainment' was.

Two sets of footsteps had him moving away from the images and with a quick " _You can go now"_ to the guard, he was alone with the surviving girl from the gate.

"You know who I am?" He asked, glancing around for any loitering servants before guiding her to a quieter spot at the edge of the room.

"I saw you yesterday." He nodded at her.

"Tell me the truth; are you really a thief?" She shook her head furiously, her teeth biting down nervously on her lip. "Your friend…was she murdered?" Another sharp nod as her eyes filled. "Levesque?" Nod. "Why?" She hesitated and he understood. "You can tell me later; right now…we're leaving."

"I can't." She pulled her arm from him and took a step away; her eyes on the open doors of the room. "They'll kill me!"

"We can protect you." He gestured to the fleur-de-lis on his shoulder and watched her swallow nervously.

"You have no idea what kind of people you're dealing with." She whispered, springing as far away from him as Eleanor Levesque practically ran into the room.

"What's going on?" She asked, her eyes flicking between him and the young girl suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" He held her stare. "Is Porthos here?"

"Porthos?" He asked. "As far as I know; Porthos is still with his father." He didn't miss how she bristled at the mention of their shared parentage.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Come now, Madame." He let his most charming smile slide onto his features. "I think we both know; your entertainment are…" He nodded to the girl. "…legendary." He flashed her another smile, hoping it was softer as he tried to talk them out of this situation. "I noticed this young girl yesterday and thought I might like to have a little preview ahead of the main event."

"Get to your room this minute." She spat to the girl and he let his smile fade as she scurried from the room shooting him a nervous glance as she left.

"A pity."

"The entertainment is by invitation only and you are **not** invited." She told him smugly.

"I can pay." He offered, determined to not leave that child here for any longer than possible. "How much?"

"Admittance is 20 livres."

"That's rather steep." He laughed forcibly hoping he could sway her.

"If you can't afford that, Monsieur, believe me; you can't afford the rest of the evening." She offered him another sickly smile before sweeping from the room.

Ge felt his hands ball into fists as he reluctantly followed her out and down into the street.

Time for backup.

* * *

"So... you've met your father."

Porthos shouldn't have been surprised that Treville was aware of his presence in the Garrison's dining room, but then again, he never would have guessed that he'd have kept something as important as who his father was from him. Could he say that he really knew the Captain at all?

"He told me things." He said, closing the door behind him with a bang.

"Nothing good about me, I'm sure."

"He told me you were friends, once. He said you broke with him because he married my mother, that that's why you turned against him. He said you kidnapped us... and told him we were **dead**." He couldn't keep the hate from his voice as he summarised all Belgard had told him through the day as he stalked closer to the man.

"It's not as simple as that." He scoffed at Treville's weak defence and asked the question he knew he would never be able to turn back from.

"Did you or not?"

"Yes." The admission seemed to pain him as Porthos felt his hands curl. "I did. To my shame, I did. But there were reasons."

"Why am I a Musketeer?"

"Because you are a great warrior." He tried to ignore how immediate the answer was; he wanted to believe that it was the truth but Belgard hadn't lied so far.

"Did you pick me because you felt guilty?"

"No. That's ridiculous!" Treville said in outrage. "No man has ever worn the uniform with more dignity and courage than you."

"Did I earn my place in the Musketeers on merit alone?" He asked, feeling a roar of anger bubble inside him as Treville stayed silent. "Answer me!"

"You're not listening to me, I told yo-"

"All these years..." He cut across him, taking a step back as being so close to him made him feel ill. "…I thought I got there on my own. But it was all a lie, just a fig leaf for your **guilt**."

"You're wrong."

"I didn't earn this. You just gave it to me."

Everything he'd ever told himself was a lie. All those time he'd comforted himself with the fact that he wore this uniform because he was one of the best…was a lie. He'd used this pauldron as armour against all those who told him that he belonged in the slums and not in the palace…

"This is what Belgard does!" Treville cried as the anguish clearly became visible on his face. "He turns things around and fills your head with lies and half-truths!" He took a step towards Porthos but the Musketeer turned away. "He did it to me and now he's doing it to you!" He told him, seething. "Porthos…" He reached out to him. "…trust me."

He so wanted to. He wanted Treville to be the beacon of truth but…all he could see was his mother. Dead. In a slum.

He wasn't aware that he'd reached up and undone the straps on his pauldron until it was in his hands; the leather as dull as his emotions. He met Treville's eyes and let it drop to the floor with a definite thud before pushing past the former Captain and out of the door.

This was no home for him…it never had been.

* * *

"She didn't tell you what these entertainments are?" Athos asked as he, D'Artagnan and Anna walked alongside Aramis through the bustling streets of Paris.

"We're not talking about a pleasant night at the theatre." Aramis told them as they turned and headed through a set of wooden city gates marking off the area they now walked through as one of a higher echelon than the crowded market they left.

"But the girl still didn't want to leave?" Anna asked with a frown and Aramis sighed as he walked the path to the gated off house for the third time.

"She's too scared of what Levesque and his absolutely charming wife might do."

"We could take it to the Magistrates." D'Artagnan offered. "There's enough evidence against Levesque and Camille was a witness." Aramis hummed as he though through the proposal that had already crossed his mind. But the young girl had been scared stiff even when Eleanor wasn't in the room.

"Even if she was willing to speak up, she'd probably disappear long before it came to court."

"Then the only option is put the Levesques out of business for good." Athos concluded as they stopped a short distance from the house of secrets, each of the Musketeers peering up at its windows and doors as they hoped for any sight of what was held prisoner inside.

"And how are we going to do that?" D'Artagnan asked as they stepped off to one side; allowing various carts to pass. "We've tried knocking on the door." He reminded Aramis who nodded before letting a slow smile spread over his features as he turned to Anna.

"No." He persisted with the smile, moving to nudge her shoulder slightly as she stared him down. "Not a chance."

"C'mon." He nudged her again. "It's not like you've never done it before."

"I'm not doing it, Aramis." She told him stubbornly as he looked to his two fellow male Musketeers for help: his exaggerated nod to the house and then Anna cluing them in. "Aramis." She warned as D'Artagnan's grin started to form while Athos stood irritatingly stoic. "Aramis." She whispered his name furiously as people started to take note of the four loitering Musketeer.

"She's a child, Anna." He reminded her. "And probably not the only one in there."

"I know and while my heart **bleeds** for them…" She glanced to the house again. "…I doubt even I could manage to fit in with that."

"What are you talking about?" D'Artagnan asked and Aramis had to say he was proud by how well he was displaying shock at her words. "You could pass for a young girl easily."

"Are you calling me old?" The act died on D'Artagnan's lips as the blonde turned to him. "Because I wasn't referring to my age, **boy**." He paled at her stare and Aramis was quickly turning her back to him before D'Artagnan could put his foot any further into it.

"That's not what he meant." He assured her, throwing Athos a glare as the man's lips quirked. "Trust me; you're as radiant as ever, sweet Antoinette."

"Good save." She replied dryly before sighing. "It's not going to work."

"How do you know?"

"What was the girl wearing?" Aramis frowned at her obscure question as he recalled his brief meeting with Camille.

"A white dress with a cloak over it."

"There's your problem." Anna told him, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "I bet she wasn't wearing that dress at Belgard's estate, was she?"

"No…"

"She's a **virgin** , Aramis." She stressed the word. "That's the whole point of this." He wanted to groan at the obviousness of it; not just young girls, young, **pure** girls. "And it's been a long time since…" She trailed off with a quick glance to Athos – the man's back to being completely impassive. "So you're going to need a new plan."

"Right." He sighed, turning back to fully face the house, choosing once again to not ask about gap between the couple as they stood on opposite sides of D'Artagnan. "And you're sure we can't just knock again?"

* * *

He honestly hadn't expected it to work. The fact that he and D'Artagnan were now walking up the stairs in the Levesque house and towards the room brimming with men…it really shouldn't have been as easy as it was.

With Anna and Aramis promising to be at the ready just outside the house, the two men had simply…knocked and with a quick grin and a well-placed _"It was a ten o'clock start, yes?"_ they were in: Aramis hadn't lied about the appalling security.

He spotted the only woman in the room easily; the red of her dress just a few shades darker than her hair and the sickening smile that didn't quite match her calculating stare was enough for him to know this was Eleanor Levesque.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, this is a private event." She told him and D'Artagnan as practically all eyes in the room landed on the uniformed me.

"Well we've paid our entrance fee…" D'Artagnan told her and Athos fought a sigh at the now considerably lighter coin pouch in his pocket; gaining entrance to an 'event' like this wasn't how he'd envisioned spending his hard earnt wages. "…and now we want some fun."

"You're Musketeers."

"Off duty." Athos told her, meeting her eyes after letting them identify most of the men in the room. "Why?"

"It's an odd coincidence, that's all." She forced a smile. "Who told you about us?"

"We met him playing cards." D'Artagnan explained. "Said his name was-"

"Antoine Levesque." He finished for the boy. "He told us we'd find something to our taste here."

"Levesque is my husband."

"Then he is a very lucky man." He was happy to let D'Artagnan play the flirt here, it had never been a role he much enjoyed nor succeeded at and as the boy pressed a kiss to the back of Eleanor's hand, he was glad Aramis had rubbed off on him a little.

"We have a 'no weapons' rule." She told them, retracting her hand and deeming D'Artagnan charming enough for their entry. "Swords at the door." They nodded once and she threw them a supposedly sultry smile. "Enjoy your evening."

Unlikely, Athos thought as he undid the buckle holding his rapier and pistol sheaths and handed them to a waiting servant.

The men around them returned to their chatter as soon as the Musketeers were free of any weaponry and Athos felt his lip curl slightly at the specimens before them; all were old, balding men clearly eager for whatever Eleanor was offering them and by the way they were being greeted by name; regulars to this 'entertainment'. He was creating a mental list of them all as D'Artagnan fidgeted beside him; taking in the graphic artwork adorning the walls around them.

"Gentlemen!" Eleanor recaptured the room's attention as she addressed them all from in front of a set of closed double doors. "You have waited long enough." She paused to smile at them. "With no further ado, I present…" She stepped to the side as the doors opened. "…a Tableau of Innocence."

He felt his stomach roll as a line of scantily clad young girls slowly and shyly made their way into the room; the men around them applauding as they reached out to skim the barely covered skin of the children.

"No touching before the auction!" Eleanor reminded the men as they continued to reach out to the flinching girls and fought with every fibre of his being to not strangle the woman as she laughed.

"Let's make our move before I kill someone." He agreed with D'Artagnan wholeheartedly, but knew they needed to let this play out a little longer before making themselves known as **on-duty** Musketeers. The hand he clamped around D'Artagnan's wrist telling the boy as much as Eleanor circled the room until coming to a stop beside the girls again.

"Regard these beauties; fresh from the provinces..." She walked slowly down the line, crowing at the attention the men were lavishing on her and her…wares. "…young, unblemished and free of disease: the very pick of the crop." She reached the first girl, her hand skimming the bare skin of her arm. "Their beguiling innocence is no whore's trick, but the real thing: their **purity** is **guaranteed**." She fingered the sheer white material of the dresses. "Is any price too high for such a **treasure**?"

The room mumbled in agreement as various men pointed out at the girls which piqued their curiosity and Athos found himself asking again how Anna had been so sure of what this event would be.

"Our rules are simple…" Eleanor roused him from his thoughts as she spoke again and he had to shake his head to free his eyes of the similarities he continued to find between the young blonde at the head of the line and the woman plaguing him with secrecy. "…The highest bid secures the prize to do with...as you will."

He felt D'Artagnan stiffen beside him and realised the boy was only now realising that these girls would not become the wives of those around them. Poor lad.

"Now, how much for…" She turned to the girl at the head of the line. "…beautiful young Camille?"

"She's the one." D'Artagnan mumbled to him and he nodded, his eyes still on the shaking girl as offers of 20 livres grew to 50.

"50 livres?!" Eleanor exclaimed with joy before turning to the room. "Any advances on 50 livres?"

He hoped his gentle flicker of his eyes to the pauldron on his arm would be enough to convince her of who he really was and the straightening of her shoulders as she met his gaze was enough for him.

"Nothing." He said; his voice as calm as he could manage as the leering stares of the men started to grate on him. "I bid nothing." The room fell silent and Eleanor's grin faltered.

"I don't think you understand the game, Monsieur."

"I UNDERSTAND VERY WELL!" He met her eyes and forced every fibre of his recoiling being to stand tall as he used all of the power he had once held as the Comte de la Fere to intimidate the room. "These **girls** are leaving with us, now." He told her as D'Artagnan stepped forward to the girls whispering promises of trust and the slow murmur of protest began to fill the air as the exit was blocked by a wild looking man whom Athos could only assume was Levesque himself. "And if anyone dares to lay a finger on them…" He met Levesque's eyes with a steady stare. "…they will answer to me."

There was a beat of silence before all hell broke loose. It was the simple cry of _'Follow them!'_ from Camille and suddenly Athos was in a fist fight as D'Artagnan led them from the room and down the stairs.

The room around him emptied almost immediately at the first sight of blood and the realisation that he was a **Musketeer** and this was **illegal** and he was going to **kill** them all; one by one.

He was jogging down the same staircase the girls had disappeared down when an almighty roar stopped him. One look back at the raging Levesque and he was picking up his speed until he was in the house's entryway and being thrown a rapier by a blonde currently battling to protect the group of girls hiding behind her.

Steel clashed with steel as he battled Levesque on the stone stairs, breaking only as Anna began to usher the girls out of the now open door as Aramis joined her and her opponent. The shift of fighting from her to him was seamless and she and the girls were suddenly gone with only a whisper of white fabric disappearing into the night.

"You're not going anywhere!" He heard Eleanor exclaim as from the corner of his eye he saw her grab a hold of the last girl in the room and try and pull a struggling Camille back into the depths of the house. "I own you!"

"Hands. Off. Now." The words were low as the fighting died off around him; Aramis and D'Artagnan having disposed of Levesque's men with ease. The temporary distraction that was Anna with a pistol to Eleanor's head was enough for him to use a casual sweep of his leg to get the vile man on his back with a rapier to the throat. "Now." Anna repeated and he watched as Eleanor reluctantly let go of the girl and let her escape to the safety of Anna. "A pleasure, Madame Levesque." She sneered before removing the pistol and all but dragging Camille behind her to the waiting girls.

He watched her disappear and opened his mouth to instruct for more Musketeers to be summoned to assist in the arrests of the remaining men but was promptly cut off as Eleanor Levesque let out a cry and swung a silver display platter into the back of his head.

He hit the ground with a thud and watched his hazy vision return with each slow blink as the sounds of D'Artagnan apprehending Eleanor and Aramis knocking out Levesque – the man having only just got to his feet, surrounded him.

He was being pulled to his feet in no time and sent D'Artagnan a grateful nod as the man remained with his rapier to Eleanor's throat as Aramis bundled him into the crisp air outside. Aramis' secure hold vanished as they reached the open gates and were deftly replaced with far more delicate hands; one cupping his chin and forcing his eyes to focus as the other softly prodded the tender area that had encountered the platter only moments earlier.

"You'll live." He smiled lightly at her prognosis as D'Artagnan came racing from the house calling for them to keep moving.

"To the Garrison." She was gone from his side as quickly as she'd appeared and he took a breath before following them down an alley and towards the Garrison.

* * *

The dining room in the Garrison was as warm as it had ever been as the girls huddled together around the room; each seeping up as much warmth from the blankets Anna had laid out near the fire before they had left for the Levesque house. Only Camille had chosen to sit at the fire, next to Treville, and her candour as she recalled how she came to be in that house was just adding to the uneasiness still coating Aramis' bones.

"Our village Priest said a respectable Parisian family was looking for a governess and wrote recommending me for the position." She told them, here eyes on the fire and not Treville and D'Artagnan as they sat either side of her. "A few weeks later, she came to the village."

"Eleanor Levesque?" D'Artagnan asked as he retrieved the last of Anna's warmed blankets and laid it across her shoulders before perching on the arm of the boy's chair.

"She paid my father a year's wages in advance, then she took me off in her fine carriage." She answered. "She gave me something to drink and I woke up in an outhouse. There was another girl already there."

"Martine?" He asked; the small girl's lifeless body still blazing in his mind as Camille nodded.

"Levesque came in; he said that we were whores and that we could never go home again." She tightened the blanket around her. "I told Martine that we couldn't give in, that we...we had to try to escape." She broke her stare into the flames and met his eyes. "And then he killed her."

"Was it just Eleanor and Levesque or was Belgard involved also?"

"Belgard?" She frowned at the name. "Who is he?"

* * *

For a long time Porthos had believed that if for some reason he was no longer welcome at the Garrison, he would be forced to return to the Court of Miracles with his tail between his legs and pick up where he left off; at the bottom of the pile.

It was therefore, very strange to leave the Garrison and know exactly where he would be welcomed. And he had been; his father had embraced him when he had told him of Treville's inability to deny his accusations and then…then he heard the words he had never thought he would ever hear: _'Welcome home, my son'_.

It was still taking some getting used to; having a father. But as he and Belgard relaxed in the latter's study, he found that in time, perhaps he could get used to this and he was sure he could find some way to pull his weight around the estate.

The crumbling exterior walls and patchy roof would be first on his list and he planned to savour these few hours of nothingness before getting to work on making his father's estate the best it could be for him as he neared old age.

Perhaps he could even construct a small cottage on the outskirts of the land and just live out his days there with the door always open for any passing Musketeers?

"Why my daughter ever married him is a mystery." Belgard sighed as Porthos tuned back into the conversation. "He's just waiting for me to die, so he can inherit my land and title." He sneered taking a drink from the glass in his hand as he sat on the edge of his desk, seemingly happy to look down on Porthos as he reclined in one of the many plush chairs dotting the room. "Be careful though: he's a dangerous man and your arrival puts his plan in danger."

"Why's that?" Porthos asked, looking up at his father and finding comfort in the familiar jaw line.

"My marriage to your mother was clandestine, but **legal**." Belgard told him. "That makes you my heir."

It was like all the breath had been squeezed from his lungs.

"I hadn't thought of it like that." He admitted: all he'd wanted was to find out where he came from and now…he thought of the sheer size of the estate and the pride Belgard seemed to have for him…it was all his.

"Well, now's the time." Belgard grinned at him as he reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses. "And nothing could make me happier."

He raised his in a toast and Porthos copied, the ruby liquid doing its job of calming his pounding heart as he thought of the conditions he had grown up in and the house he was to inherit.

"Tell me…" Belgard leant back as he spoke and Porthos instinctively knew what was coming. "…how did your mother die?"

Porthos took a long drink from the glass before letting the raspiness that always filled his voice when he spoke of his mother, speak.

"A fever."

"And yet, you survived and prospered?" Belgard seemed impressed.

"She had already taught me to fight for what I wanted in life and never give in."

"You must be proud of her."

"Mm…" He let his mind fill with all of the cherished moments he had with his mother. "…Yeah."

"I have something to show you." Belgard told him, draining his glass and sliding off the desk. "For many years, I couldn't bear to look at this." He said, walking around to the back of the desk and pulling open a draw. "It's yours now." He reached across and let the small trinket he'd retrieved fall into Porthos' hand.

The former Musketeer let his thumb stroke the painted image of a black woman inside the small palm-sized frame. Eyes focusing on the pale blue hair wrap and furry stole covering her shoulders, he desperately sought comfort from the image and let his eyes close momentarily as he pictured the woman who had given birth to him and what she would be feeling now, as he stood here with this painting and this man.

"My mother?" He asked already knowing the truth of the image.

"Beautiful, wasn't she?"

"Yeah." He smiled at the memory of her singing softly to him as he fell asleep; the light from their one candle illuminating her face. "Yeah, she was."

* * *

The gurgling of a baby was not the sound she was expecting as she entered the Queen's bedroom but the sight of her Majesty knelt on the floor shaking a rattle and playing with her infant son; it warmed her heart in a way nothing had done since Bonacieux's death.

"I have stolen him from his governess." Anne told her proudly; tickling the Dauphin gently as he giggled. "They hardly ever allow me a moment alone with him." She told her, gesturing for Constance to join them. "It is hard to be both a queen and a mother."

Constance understood; she'd watched as the King became more and more of a recluse lately with only his trusted Rochefort allowed into his chambers. The Queen hadn't seen her husband in so long and Constance often wondered how she managed to keep a brave face when she knew it was tearing her up inside.

Anyone stationed permanently at the court knew that the King and Queen's marriage was not a particularly…passionate one, and yet when they were together, especially with their son; it was so clear how devoted they were to each other.

"I wish his father could share these precious moments."

"I'm sure if you sent for the King-"

"Not the King." Anne told her, meeting her eyes. "His father."

Constance let out a deep breath as the woman confirmed every suspicion she'd had since that day at Emilie's camp.

"Aramis." The Queen said nothing smart enough to not voice anything out loud, but just returned her gaze to her beautiful boy.

Looking back with this knowledge, it was so obvious; Aramis' devotion to the Dauphin so much…more than any other Musketeer and Anne's relaxing stature whenever he was her guard.

"I was born into a life of duty." Anne told her sadly. "I have been privileged, but never free." Constance fought a flinch at the word that had plagued her mind all day. "Thank God, I have **one** precious memory to sustain me...a fleeting dream of the life I might have lived." Constance felt her throat constrict as the Queen' candour; everything she voiced…it was too close to her own feelings. "I can never be free to love as I want, but **you are**. Swear to me, you won't let anything stop you finding happiness."

She felt her eyes close as her mind suddenly cleared. How could she have been so stupid? She nor D'Artagnan had been the one to kill Bonacieux and the blood on her beloved's hands told her that he had tried to stem the bleeding but…

D'Artagnan had tried to save him; the man who was stopping them from being together and she had…cast him aside.

"I've been such a fool." She whispered, getting to her feet and glaring at the skirts of the dress she had rushed to buy as an homage to her newfound widow-ness.

"Where are you going?" Anne asked as Constance stopped in the doorway.

"To change out of this stupid dress." She said with a smile and saw the Queen mirror it as her decision was made. "Black has never been my colour."

* * *

Laughter filled the Garrison as the rescued girls sat around the sole picnic bench and happily filled their starving stomachs with all the food Serge could offer.

Athos watched as they ladled stew into mugs and drizzled bread with honey all while laughing and joking as though the night before and the horrific events leading to their arrivals in Paris had never happened.

He heard the three men at his side laugh as various calls of _'Anna'_ filled the air; the girls eager to spend more time with the female Musketeer as she appeared carrying another plate of bread. Pulling her into the group and forcing her to take a seat whilst asking for more and more stories of how she became a Musketeer, he felt his own lips quirk as she doled out advice and words of encouragement on how to become fine, modern women.

"I'll see they're all escorted home to their parents." Treville promised, pushing off the balcony and leading them into the upper level of the Garrison and down the small corridor to the Captain's office. "If I can pry them away from their new role-model."

"There's enough evidence against Levesque to press charges." Athos reminded him; following him into the office as Aramis and D'Artagnan followed. "Kidnapping, false imprisonment..." He trailed off, hoping Treville would agree.

"No-one would believe Belgard was involved."

"We have no evidence he is." D'Artagnan said as Treville leant against the desk with a sigh. "Camille only ever saw Eleanor and Levesque."

"Perhaps Levesque is running the show right under Belgard's nose?" Aramis asked and Athos found himself agreeing with the men as Treville moved to take the seat behind the desk, bobbing slightly as he remembered his lack of title and instead choosing to brace himself on its surface.

"If you knew Belgard like I do, you might not be so charitable." Treville told them and Athos voiced the question they had all been asking since Aramis' hasty arrival back in Paris.

"Could Porthos be in danger?"

* * *

He couldn't stop toying with the painting. It was yet to leave his hands and yet all he wanted to do was throw it away and honour his own memories of his mother. Exploring the house was the only thing stopping him from going mad as snippets of his childhood continued to play in his mind but continued to be a mismatch with the inheritance Belgard was promising.

Would these long corridors have been filled with laughter if his mother had been allowed to stay here? Would they have been happy? Would she be alive?

Legally, he was going to be a Marquis. It was flummoxing him. Athos was a Comte and he gave it up for a life as a Musketeer but he…he'd given up his pauldron to honour his father and claim his birth right.

Birth right. He sneered at the words. For his entire life his only birth right had been to live and die in the slums and now here he was…roaming the estate of the Marquis de Belgard and trying to familiarise himself with it; his new home.

He found himself out in the courtyard in no time; it was the only part of the house he felt comfortable in and knew how ironic it was that this courtyard, while a part of the house; was not.

He was kicking at the dust when the thuds filled the air and frowned at the sound that had no place on a sleepy estate. It continued to fill the air; the rhythmic thud of something against metal and tried to figure out why it sounded familiar.

He followed it through the courtyard and towards one of the outhouses surrounding the open space. One glance at the chains holding the door closed and he knew why it was familiar to him; prisoners at the Bastille were known for their banging on the doors as a desperate plea for freedom.

"Who's there?" He asked, not surprised when the banging stopped and frowned. This wasn't the place where prisoners would be held even if Belgard were a Magistrate. This wasn't right.

A solid kick to the now unmoving wood and sunlight was flooding into the pitch black room. He let his eyes adjust for a single heartbeat before he was unconsciously reaching out to the girl now pressing her back to the wall furthest from him; her eyes wild as she sobbed.

"Hey, no." he told her. "I'm not going to hurt you." He went to gesture to his pauldron as he approached; the sight of the fleur-de-lis almost always having a calming effect on people but let his hand fall as he realised it wasn't there anymore. "Who did this to you?" He asked instead, choosing to ignore how being without it was suddenly making him feel bare as he knelt before her.

"Now, there is a good question." He turned as Belgard's voice filled the space; the man standing in the doorway with a pistol in his hand.

"What's that for?" Porthos asked, moving slightly to shield the still sobbing girl.

"A reasonable precaution, when your son-in-law is plotting to kill you." Belgard shrugged, the pistol hanging limply at his side as he watched the girl with sadness. "I've suspected his criminality for some time, but nothing like this." He entered the room and extended a hand to the girl. "You poor thing: let's get you to the house."

"You knew nothing about this?" Porthos asked as the girl unsteadily got to her feet before dropping Belgard's hand immediately, clearly deciding they weren't fully trustworthy yet – he couldn't blame her.

"Of course not!" Belgard told him. "Eleanor chooses the staff and Levesque runs the estate. They tell me nothing." He took a step towards the door. "They'll want to kill you now, more than ever. You must strike first." Porthos frowned at his words as the girl began to calm.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you see? You must kill Levesque."

"I-"

"Come, we've no time to waste." Belgard cut across him as he led the girl out of her prison and into the court yard. "You must-"

"What are you up to now, you sly devil?" Porthos wanted to groan as Levesque's sneering voice reached him as he stayed in the make-shift prison; eyeing the shackles and hay strewn floor with disgust.

The clicking of pistols being cocked brought him from the shadows and watched as Levesque and his wife stood surrounded by their men with all barrels pointed to Belgard.

"Porthos has discovered your lies and deception, Levesque." Belgard spoke up, stepping further into the courtyard as Porthos pushed the girl behind him. "You're finished here."

"Don't you ever grow tired of your games?" Levesque asked as Belgard simply walked past him and Porthos fought a smile as all pistols followed his father and not him as he led the girl away before stepping beside the old man...

"My son is going to protect me from you and my ungrateful witch of a daughter." He told them, turning only slightly to give Porthos a proud look.

"Stand away, Father." Eleanor cooed as she watched the young girl quiver behind a stone column.

"I told you: he's finally gone mad." Levesque sneered.

"I knew there was something wrong with this place, the moment I stepped into it."

"The only thing that's wrong is you being here." Levesque told him, spitting at his feet as he raised his pistol. "But we can soon set that righ-"

The shot Porthos had been expecting never came and instead he watched as Levesque himself was knocked to one knee.

"Did you think I wouldn't guess what you wanted, Levesque?" Porthos watched in disbelief as Belgard's pistol smoked while Levesque wheezed; the shot leaving a definite hole in his chest. "This is a family concern." He told him as Eleanor sank to her own knees letting out a cry at the blood gushing from her husband's wound. "You think I'd simply hand it over to an interloper?" He laughed at the thought. "My son is going to succeed me, now."

"What have you done?" Eleanor breathed as she rose; her eyes fixed on Belgard as Porthos swallowed heavily; this wasn't the turn he was expecting. "You're insane!" She cried, turning the still armed men around them. "Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot them! Shoot them!"

Another unseen shot filled the air and Porthos let out a sigh of relief as his comrades came running into the courtyard; Aramis hastily re-loading as D'Artagnan, Athos and Anna stormed through with a pistol in each hand – their shots landing perfectly on target as Levesque's men fell and Belgard and the girl ran for cover.

Even Treville was there, he realised with a jolt as the man appeared from around a column and released shot after shot into the melee. He felt a rage consume him at the sight of his mentor in this home; protecting him from his own blood.

It wasn't right. Pulling his own pistols from his belt he stormed through the shots, letting off a few of their own, and heading for the man who had lied to him – he wasn't going to let him destroy his family again.

* * *

"BELGARD!" He stormed through the corridors of the house, pistols at the ready as he hunted down the man all too happy to start a fight only to flee when possible. "What's going on here?" He demanded as he found the man pacing the dining room. "Tell me the truth."

"Levesque is a pimp and exploiter of young women." Belgard told him; the shots from the courtyard still filling the air as he faced him. "He's been hiding them here under my nose, while plotting with my daughter to murder me. Thank God we stopped him in time."

"You shot him, not me." Porthos reminded him, his grip on the pistols till tight as they faced each other.

"Your presence gave me the strength."

"Don't believe a word he says." Porthos turned slightly as Treville's voice joined them; the former Captain entering with a pistol aimed directly at Belgard. "The man can't open his mouth without lying." Belgard let out a growl at the insult.

"Don't..." His pistol was up and pointing at Belgard before the man could let off another stupid shot in the pistol he seemed far too comfortable with.

The air was thick with tension as Belgard's outstretched pistol shook slightly; his eyes flitting between the two stoic Musketeers before begrudgingly lowering it; his eyes now firmly on Porthos.

"Shoot him, Porthos." He whispered, placing the gun onto the table carefully. "You know what he's done to you: take your revenge."

"I want the truth, now: every word of it." Porthos said, turning to Treville who nodded slowly.

"It's true, de Foix and I left you in that terrible place." He said and Porthos felt himself deflate. "He begged us to do it: his father was going to disinherit him and Belgard said he'd kill you both himself…unless we took you away."

"Why not just refuse?" Porthos asked, happy to speak over Belgard's denial; he only had eyes for his Captain now.

"We'd sworn a blood oath we'd always help each other. I'm ashamed I thought I was bound by it." He admitted, stepping further into the room with a shake of his head. "I regretted what I'd done immediately and came looking for you, but you'd disappeared."

"But you found me later and made me a Musketeer."

"Yes."

"Because you felt guilty?"

"Because you **deserved** it." Treville stressed. "I would **never** give the uniform to someone who didn't." He told him; his eyes alight. "You know that!"

"We've heard enough of this." Belgard piped up again. "Shoot him, Porthos."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do as he says." Porthos asked, nodding to the eager Belgard.

"You know everything now..." Treville promised. "…and you know who I am." Porthos watched as his Captain seemed to agree that a shot would be more than deserving. "Do what you have to do."

"Go on, Porthos!" He felt his jaw tighten at Belgard's encouragement. He was silent as he tried to process all that he'd learnt today; desperate to distinguish the truth from the lies but…one look at Treville's resigned face and then the movement he noted from the corner of his eye and he knew who to believe.

Belgard barely had the pistol up again before it was shooting it out of his hand; the old man recoiling as it flew away, sparks littering the floor. Porthos looked in shock to Treville; the Captain's face determined as his pistol smoked from defending them.

"For a while there, you almost had me believing you." He told the man, turning to stalk towards him. "God knows, I **wanted** to. But you had to overplay your hand." He reached inside his jerkin for the small painting. "This picture? It's **not** my mother." He threw it onto the table. "You thought I was too young to remember her, but one thing you **never** **forget** is your mother's face." He sneered at Belgard. "You probably bought this in some junk shop somewhere, thinking I wouldn't know the difference between one black woman and another."

He spared the painting one last glance before holstering his pistol and turning from him.

"You can't leave me, you're my **son**!"

"Yeah." He turned back to him as he reached Treville's side. "But you're not my father."

* * *

His heart was heavy as he led his horse from the estate's stables, but, he reminded himself as he caught site of four Musketeers loitering at a tree, he finally knew the truth. Belgard had given him the insight he needed into the life he could have led but watching the four uniformed figures laugh and joke with each other, he knew that his true family did not consist of a titled man and his looming estate but bonds forged in blood and combat with the ones waiting for him.

"So, what are you going to do now?" D'Artagnan asked as the group opened up to receive him.

"What I've always done." He told them, his one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his rapier; with any luck the army would still take him even after his resignation from the Musketeers; he still couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.

"What about your inheritance?" Athos asked, forcing him to look back at the crumbling mansion.

"This place?" he took a moment before turning his back to it. "Not interested." He told them. "Still...it is bigger than yours."

"Can we not do the whole _mine-is-bigger-than-yours_ thing?" Anna asked with a sneer. "It's no fun when you can't take part." He laughed at her pout, reaching out to pat her shoulder as he led the horse forward a little – eager to get this goodbye over and done with; leaving them to return to the Garrison was going to be hard enough without having to ride alongside them.

He took another step, readying himself to force this separation when Aramis' voice broke the quiet.

"The Captain thought you might be needing this."

He felt his breath hitch slightly at the pauldron in his outstretched hand. His fingers itched to snatch it from his hold and strap it on before it could be retracted. His eyes met each of theirs in turn asking a silent question and the leather being pushed into his hand was the answer he was so desperate for.

He let go of the horses reigns immediately and his hand moved on memory alone as the pauldron and its fleur-de-lis fund their way home.

* * *

He'd been preparing for this moment for such a long time that now, as he was about to enact his meticulous plan, it felt almost unreal. She had been the only thing that had kept him fighting all those years at the hands of the Spanish, even when Vargas himself had become his daily torturer; she had filled his mind and dulled all pain.

The doors to her bedchamber squeaked as he opened and closed them; the pale white wood effectively sealing them off from everyone and everything in this palace. He couldn't have planned this better; the King was locked away on the other side of the building, nosy courtiers were gone and that insufferable lapdog named Constance Bonacieux had just been seen running through the palace and out into the streets of Paris.

His beloved Anne was finally alone.

"Rochefort." He turned at the sound of his name and smiled so gently at the sight of her knelt at her small bedside altar, rosary beads in hand. "Is everything all right?"

He remained silent, his back pressed against the doors as he watched her rise and turn to him fully. She was such a sight to behold; he knew his voice would hoarse but this was not an opportunity to be squandered.

"There is a matter that I must discuss with you…" He told her, his mind filled with flashing images of conversation snippets that had been slowly driving him mad since the archbishop's death. "…in private."

"What is it?" She asked, her features not quite folding into a frown but almost. "What is this about?"

"A gift." He told her. "One I gave you many years ago when I was your tutor in Spain." He watched her eyes widen slightly in recognition. "A jewelled crucifix."

"Forgive me…" She forced a smile at him and he sickened at how well he knew her, how much he loved her, to be able to identify it as false. "…I have so much jewellery."

"It was a token of my esteem." He told her, his stare unrelenting as she shifted slightly. "You said you would treasure it...forever."

"I was 14 years old." She reminded him her features tight as her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hardly know what I said then."

"And now I find this same gift..." He paused watching her pale as she knew what was coming. "…Hanging around another man's neck."

* * *

She had run all the way to the Garrison from the moment the laces on her pale blue dress were tied with an order of disposing of the black monstrosity she had moped in, immediately.

Standing just inside the Garrison, facing the stone archway all Musketeers rode through to enter the Musketeer headquarters, she couldn't stop fidgeting and smiling and just hoping that he understood how stupid she felt.

Lemay had taken the rejection quite well and with his best wishes of good fortune, she finally felt as free as everyone was telling her she was.

She couldn't stop her grin growing as six horses rounded the corner and walked into the Garrison, each rider giving her a knowing smile as they passed in twos. Athos and Treville, Aramis and Porthos and finally, with Anna passing on one side of her, the horse she most wanted to see, stopped.

"You're not in mourning." He noted, passing his horse to a waiting stable boy as the other five Musketeers moved further into the Garrison to give them some privacy.

"Because I'm not grieving." She told him proudly as he pulled off his gloves. "I'm tired of being a hypocrite and I'm tired of everything getting in the way of being happy: including my own stupid conscience."

"Are you saying..."

"I'm not finished yet." She told him, cutting him off as four nosy Musketeers snickered behind her. "The thing is...I just wanted to say that..." She took a breath and channelled all the confidence she'd felt on the way over here as she'd practiced what to say to him. "…you're the only man I've ever loved or will ever love and...if you still want me and you're willing to give me-"

"Constance..." D'Artagnan stopped her rambling with a grin. "…shut up and kiss me."

She felt a sigh of relief escape her as she grinned up at him before taking a step forward and pressing her lips to his.

"I must go." She told him as they separated. "The Queen is waiting for me."

"Of course." He breathed, leaning in to press another kiss to her lips, this one quickly deepening.

His hands came to rest on her waist as hers cupped his strong jaw line and it as then, with catcalls filling the air, Constance felt truly at home.

* * *

"You've lost your mind, Rochefort." She breathed as they stood not a hairs breath apart in her empty quarters. "Leave now, before it's too late."

"I can't." He hated how his voice broke. "Not before I know."

"Know what?"

"That you love me..." He told her. "…as I love you…I will forgive you any transgression, so long as I know that." He grabbed for her hands and held them tightly in his own as a tear rolled down his cheek. "If we love each other, we will forgive."

And he knew that he meant it; this was the woman who had consumed him from the very moment they had met and he would her forgive her **anything** even any indiscretions with the Musketeer Aramis, to have her in his arms and his arms only for the rest of their lives.

"You've gone mad." She tore her hands from his and turned back to her altar. "Leave me now!"

"I have dreamed of this moment for so long..." He took a step closer to her. "…To be alone with you, at last...To…" He placed his hands on her arms gently, hoping to convey how much he truly loved her. "…consummate our love..." She flinched in his hold as he drew her closer to him; his breath hot on the back of her neck. "Please tell me, tell me you love me and all will be well." He felt her shoulders rack as she covered her eyes and let out a sob.

He paused for a second, relishing how close they were before pressing a stuttering kiss to her neck. She recoiled from him immediately and was out of his hold in a second. He didn't see the slap coming as she whirled to face him but the echo of her palm on his cheek filled the room.

"You're a monster!" She told him as he rubbed the tender skin gently, turning back to her slowly. "Get out before I have you arrested!"

His eyes hardened as they rested back on her horrified face and he felt his heart crumble into sand as he realised there was future for them. She had knowingly given away the only thing he had been able to offer her as a token of his love, to another man – a lesser man, and was calling him the monster?

"No one will come if you call." He felt dead as he spoke and knew his emotionless voice was replacing any love she might have once held for him with fear. "Your servants answer to me now. You will **love** me." He took her by the shoulders as she let out another sob. "You will!" He commanded, shaking her lightly as tears rolled down her porcelain skin. "We will be together at last, no matter what."

For Rochefort was not a man to let what he wanted slip away. He would have Anne and she would come to love him as he loved her. He knew it.

And as she tried to make a break for it; tried to wrestle out of his hold, he knew there was only one way to prove his love. Grasping her retreating arm he deftly swung her around and let her fall into the softness of her bed; her back against the mattress as she fell to the floor.

"You will love me." He repeated, standing over her. "As I love you." He fell to his knees and was on her in a second; his lips pressed to the soft skin of her neck – her pulse pounding under his kiss, as his hand grasped at the material of her dress.

"No!" She let out a scream that seemed to buck her strength as she pushed him away and tried desperately to crawl to the door.

He was back on her in an instant; her outstretched hand falling to the floor as her flipped her to her back and covered her body with his own, her wrists held captive by his hands as he pressed hot, loving kisses to her throat.

"No! Please!" She bucked against him as he released one hand and rested his own on her waist, pinning her to the floor as he readied himself to love her as only he could.

"Let her go!" He hadn't heard the chamber doors reopen and his head snapped up at the cry. He let out a growl at the sight of Constance Bonacieux's horrified stare and prepared to lunge for the woman.

He was almost at a lunge when, instead of throwing the widow to the floor and silencing her for good, he was falling to the side and letting out a cry of pain as something pierced the skin beneath his eye.

Getting to his feet he stared in disbelief at the blood stained hand that had flung up to protect his wounded eye. He turned on the pair of women with a snarl and watched as they clung to each other.

"The King will hear of your adultery with the Musketeer Aramis." He told them, still wobbling slightly as his eye continued to stream blood. "Guards!" He roared. "Come quickly!" He staggered past the Queen and into her ante-chamber before flinging open the doors to the corridor. "There is treason in our midst!"

* * *

The Garrison was abuzz with activity as Musketeers cheered for the still blushing D'Artagnan and his steamy reunion with Constance.

She was unbearably happy for the couple and judging by the proud grins on the faces of Aramis, Porthos, Treville and even Athos as they continued to ply him with wine and toast to the relationship, so was everyone else.

She was happy to sit on the fringes of this celebration though, and her perch on the steps leading to the Captain's quarters was offering her a perfect view of the four men at the picnic table while keeping her out of the action.

She felt she'd done a good job of keeping her head down lately; desperate to not attract any more attention lest it lead to a formal interrogation of why she was being so…shady.

She still hadn't been able to force the truth from her mouth though it continued to sit on the tip of her tongue and, was it selfish to say she was glad Porthos had been away from the Garrison for the last two days? It had given her some breathing room as she planned how and where she would tell them all the truth.

Telling Athos on his own hadn't worked; she'd escaped from the Garrison early one afternoon and rushed home to lay out a feast of all she could find in the market but, one look at the candle lit room and her standing awkwardly in the best dress she owned and well… she'd woken up hours later in a tangle of limbs but with the truth still untold.

So she was going to tell them as a group with Treville present to act as a blocker and explain all that she couldn't. Or at least, that had been the plan for today until the epic reunion of Constance and D'Artagnan had occurred and now…

She took a deep drink from the cup in her hand to fight the groan she wanted to let out.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp?" She looked up as he name was called and like every other Musketeer in the grounds, frowned at the presence of a group of Red Guards that no one had noticed.

"Here." She stood slowly, recognising most of them from her time at the palace.

"Mademoiselle, your presence is required at the Louvre."

"Tell Rochefort I'll visit in the morning." She waved them away and moved to the picnic table to refill her cup. "We're in the middle of a celebration."

"Mademoiselle-"

"You're dismissed." She told them, her eyes hard as she leant against the table, ignoring how her skin prickled at the stares of the Musketeers around her. "Leave us."

The guards shuffled slightly before one stepped forward with a scroll in his hands.

"The Comte de Rochefort asked us to do this quietly but if you won't come…" He trailed off waved someone forward. "…we'll have to do this the hard way."

"What are you-"

"We're here to detain you for further questioning regarding to your suspected acts of treason against His Majesty the King and the country of France."

She felt all air leave her lungs as one guard approached her with shackles in his hands.

"You will be taken to the Louvre palace and placed under the custody of the Comte de Rochefort while these claims are assessed." The Guard read from the scroll.

Her hands were being forced behind her in an instant and she heard more than felt the cold metal clicking around her wrists.

"Get your hands off her!" Chaos broke out around her as Musketeers were unsheathing their rapiers and readying their pistols. "I said; unhand her!" Athos' voice rose above the melee and she felt her senses return as she was dragged towards the groups of Red Guards.

Despite kicking out against the two now holding her and trying in vain to free herself from the shackles, she was quickly subdued and forced to stand still – the Garrison quieting as the scroll was handed to Athos and the Lieutenant read it silently.

"Anna-" He breathed and she felt her eyes close in defeat as the paper fell to the floor.

"I can explain-" She was cut off as horse thundered into the Garrison, the Musketeer rider breathing hard as he pulled it to a stop and looked down at them all.

"The Queen's been arrested."

"What for?" Anna's voice returned at the news and she pulled at her captors hold to get closer to the rider.

"Treason."

The Garrison fell silent at the news.

"I accept all charges." She whispered to the Guards around her. "I **accept** all charges." She repeated, standing straight and blowing a tuft of hair from her eyes as she met Athos' bewildered gaze. "Take me to Rochefort."


	10. The Accused

**A.N. Remember: reviews are not just welcome, they're encouraged :) xoxo**

* * *

She was on her knees before him; lip curled in a snarl as her shackles rattled against the hard wood floor behind her. Having her brought to his office instead of an open reception room had been a last-minute decision and now as he stared at her; eyes wild and hair matted from fighting against his men when they'd first arrested her, he knew it was the right decision.

Hearing that she had given up fighting his Red Guards almost as fast as she had started before publicly accepting his charges of treason had been…surprising. And so here they both were; her with her snarls at the restraints holding her arms behind her and him snarling at the woman offering a cloth to sooth the piercing pain shooting through his still bleeding left eye.

"Will it heal?" He asked the woman as she wrung out the cloth again. "Tell me the truth." He snapped as she avoided his gaze and swallowed hard. "Find me soothing to cover it." He snatched the cloth from her and with a growl had her running from the room.

"If it's any consolation…" He turned his attention back to his new prisoner who was slumping at the shoulders as she watched him press the cool cloth to his eye. "…it definitely adds to your whole image of being evil."

"I wasn't asking you."

She shrugged at his dismissal and seemed to settle into her position as she realised there was little point in snarling at him. Truth be told; when they had first met, he'd occupied his spare time by picturing her strung up alongside the other insufferable Musketeers but she had grown on him.

He'd finally figured her out too, he thought smugly as her gaze flittered around the office. He hadn't been able to comprehend why such a…competent woman had elected to pledge herself to that damned regiment in the first place and then he had observed her relationship with the Musketeer Athos. Whatever had once been between them was now waning and with a few well-placed questions he'd learnt of the man's former title and suddenly understood.

Mademoiselle Antoinette Beauchamp, only child of the former Comte de Poitiers, was a fortune follower. She'd replaced her lost status after her father's death with the gullible Comte de la Fere and now that his regiment was on thin ice she'd be looking elsewhere for her future.

And the Comte de Rochefort was the man to give it to her.

The Queen's violent rejection of his love had been a wake-up call and he realised that a life with an adulterous whore was not the one he deserved, no; this specimen before him with all of her skills and experience with the Spanish was where his future lay and it was now just a matter of getting her onside.

"What did your beloved say when the charges were read?" He asked and smirked when the snarling returned. "Not the reaction you were hoping for then?"

"We both know you aren't going to formally charge me with anything."

"Is that so?" He asked, perching on the edge of his desk and looking down on her.

"I could run through the palace spilling secrets and the King would do nothing." She told him, her eyes gleaming as she smirked up at him. "I'm too valuable."

"Someone clearly thinks a lot of herself."

"Almost as much as you do." She threw him a sickly smile before jostling her shackles again. "I'm uniquely positioned within the Spanish court so that I could walk back in at any time and pick up where I left off." She reminded him. "So, you can detain me for questioning as much as you like, but we both know I'll be walking out of here a free woman."

"A free woman with no friends, no lover and no regiment." He laughed at her confused look. "You don't honestly think they'd take you back after this? Oh poor, sweet Anna." He slid onto his knees before her. "Outside these walls, you're a nobody…and an untrustworthy one at that." He fingered her hair lightly as he let the words sink in.

"You exposed me." She breathed as she met his eyes. "So what makes you think I won't tell the King everything I know?"

"Which is?"

"You love the Queen."

"Not after this." He gestured to his still covered eye; the cloth doing little to ease it. "Try again."

"You're working with the Spanish." He chuckled at her last string of hope.

"Last time you threatened to go running around with that one, you got suspended." He reminded her. "And who exactly do you think will believe that I; the King's right-hand man, was not loyal to his monarch?"

"I'll make them believe."

"Or you could just play along." He suggested, letting his hand stray from her hair to glide along her jaw. "You and I could do so much together." He whispered as he reached her chin and forced her to meet his stare. "I can give you everything you've ever wanted."

She was silent as his whispered words washed over her and he watched as an internal battle raged in her eyes before her shoulders straightened and leant in slightly, letting his thumb rub along her jaw in a tentative hold.

"Everything?"

He cupped her chin and pulled her forward, their lips barely brushing.

"Everything, Comtesse."

* * *

Athos hadn't been able to think straight for the entire rushed ride to the palace. His mind was swirling around two facts: the Queen has been accused of treason and Anna has been arrested for the same charge.

He kept seeing the clearly written word on the paper handed to him by the Red Guards: _spy_. The more he thought about it, the more ludicrous it became: Anna was more patriotic than anyone he knew – she adored the King and Queen and though she often believed Louis to be a little…childish, the Queen and her were as close as could be. Spy. He sneered at the word and knew he could trace it directly back to the same man responsible for the detention of the Queen: Rochefort.

"Rochefort attacked the Queen." He shook himself from his thoughts and forced his mind on the task at hand; Anna would have to fend for herself until this matter with the Queen was sorted but then, mark his words he was going to make the Comte pay. "He tried to force himself on her." Constance told them as she led them to the Queen's chambers. "She fought him off though: wounded him."

She gave them a last look back before opening the doors to the chambers and ushering them inside.

The Queen was visibly shaking as she waved away her ladies-in-waiting and simply stared at the imposing quartet of Musketeers. She waited until the women were completely absent from the room before nodding for them to speak.

"He dared to lay hands on you?" It was no surprise to him that Aramis was the first to speak, though he noted the looks Porthos and D'Artagnan were shooting their friend for speaking so casually to Her Majesty.

"I trusted him." She told them. "I thought he was my friend."

"The King has been informed?" D'Artagnan asked as they took in the woman's paled face and nervous wringing of her hands. She took a breath before meeting their eyes each in turn before settling on his own as the unofficial leader of the foursome.

"My loyal Musketeers will escort me." She told him and with a nod he turned and gestured for Porthos and D'Artagnan to lead the Queen away, hanging back to shoot the lingering Constance a questioning glance.

"Rochefort knows everything about you and the Queen." He wanted to scream and shout at the whispered information but instead met Aramis' solemn gaze and took a deep breath before entering the corridor and catching up to the Queen.

Aramis said nothing at his side but he knew the man's mind was working itself into a frenzy; he didn't blame him, his own was doing the same.

* * *

"Get out of the way." Porthos was not a man to be argued with on the best of occasions but now, as he stalked towards the King's rooms, snarling at every Red Guard they passed; only a fool would question him.

"The King is not accepting visitors." Apparently they found the fool, Athos thought as the Musketeers came to a halt just on the border of the King's chambers and faced a group of Red Guards.

"This is not a visitor: it's the Queen!" He shouted, moving aside to show them the woman in the centre of the Musketeer guard. "Open the door."

There was no movement from the Guard Captain and Porthos and D'Artagnan parted seamlessly to allow the royal woman through as she marched towards the man.

"Do as he says." She ordered, her fists tight as he gave her a once over before refusing to move. "How dare you defy me!"

Their swords were drawn in an instant at the threat this Captain now posed to the Queen.

"Open the doors or we'll kill you and open them ourselves." D'Artagnan promised as he and Porthos retook their positions in front of the Queen.

The Captain lingered on their ready swords for only a second before stepping back and forcing his men to carve a path towards the reception room the King currently occupied.

The doors were thrown open in an instant and the Queen strode forward, ahead of her guards and into the large room.

"You dare bring an armed guard into my presence?!"

The King was shaking with anger as he turned on his wife; her dramatic entrance into the chamber doing little for her defence regarding the matter at hand. Athos eyed the tightly gripped slip of paper in his hand as he seethed.

"I must speak with you Sire."

"You must indeed Madame." Louis agreed, his lip curled slightly at her presence and the defensive wall the Musketeers had formed behind her.

"Whatever Rochefort told you is all lies!" Aramis exclaimed as the man in question turned to face them all; his new eyepatch a prominent feature as he sneered at them. That would be the wound the Queen delivered, Athos mused as he studied the strip of leather protecting the Comte's left eye.

"Am I to be shouted at now?" The King asked, silencing Aramis and forcing him back into line with his comrades. "Do you deny that you wrote this letter?" He thrust the scrunched piece of paper at his wife. "Is this your hand? Your royal seal?"

All arguments vanished from the Queen as she took the letter and scanned its contents.

"The Queen wrote to her brother the King of Spain even though Your Majesty expressly forbade her to do so." Rochefort said, sliding into his place at the King's side.

"It was months ago." Anne told him. "When you were captured by slavers." He snatched the letter from his wife, a new rage in his eyes as the betrayal was confirmed.

"You invited foreign troops onto the sovereign soil of France?!"

This was far more complicated than they'd thought; the issue of Rochefort attacking the Queen wasn't being mentioned and Athos fought the curling of his fists as he realised this had been Rochefort's plan all along – nothing the Queen said would be believed now.

"You might have been dead." She tried to explain. "My only thought was to protect your son, the Dauphin."

"In any other of our subjects this might be called treason!"

There was that word again. He'd heard no whisper of Anna since they'd arrived and he was sure the Queen would know of a Musketeer imprisonment even under these circumstances. The palace had eyes and ears everywhere and so it was…concerning to hear nothing of the woman.

"It was Rochefort who advised the Queen to write to Spain." Constance said, moving from the doorway to address the King. Athos felt his head droop slightly as she spoke – the defence of a newly widowed woman employed by the Queen would do absolutely nothing.

They needed the testimony of someone the King actually acknowledged – they needed Anna.

"This girl is either a fantasist or a liar." Rochefort said, turning sideways to address the King. His stance was as much a show of loyalty as theirs was.

"Your Majesty, she was there, she witnessed every word." It was D'Artagnan who stepped forward this time to defend his love and Athos knew it was time he stepped in; the only one who wouldn't let emotions cloud him.

"Your Majesty should listen to the Queen." He pushed forward to stride from his place behind the Queen to stand with her. "You can't trust this man." He pointed definitively to Rochefort as the Comte stared him down.

"Can't trust him?" Louis asked. "He is the only one I can trust!" He exclaimed. "The truth of this is confirmed not only by past events where Rochefort is the only person to not disappoint me…but also by one of this country's finest." He waved someone forward from his crowd of councillors. "Tell them."

"The Comte de Rochefort has no-one but the King's best interests at heart."

Athos felt his mouth go bone dry at the sight of her. The Musketeer uniform she'd been hauled off in was replaced by something that even his nightmares couldn't have conjured.

The leather of her breeches was like a second skin around her legs as she stepped forward; the crowd of men parting for her. The uniform was entirely black, nothing like the browns she wore as a Musketeer, and was clearly designed to emphasise the fact that she was a woman, not hide it as her blues once had. Her waist was cinched in by a corset top made entirely of damask with silver buckles holding it together over a jet-black shirt.

Every step she took highlighted something different; how the matte leather contrasted with the cotton shirt and its billowing sleeves, how the buckles caught the sunlight and shone like medals, how her feet were clad in heeled boots that bled seamlessly up over her breeches.

She was a vision and it made him sick.

"Anna." The Queen's voice was a mix of shock and betrayal as the woman stopped at Rochefort's side. "How could you?"

It was exactly what he wanted to ask but found he couldn't; the question had dried up along with every other thought in his head as he studied her – the slight curl in her hair as it hung around her face, the slow smile she offered the Queen and the red. His eyes kept coming back to the red. The single pendant sat against her collar bone and the supple lips he knew so well were blood red and taunted him as his stomach twisted and every thought of being able to control himself vanished.

Where was she? Was his Anna hiding somewhere under those clothes?

He knew Rochefort was watching him; studying for a reaction, but he wouldn't give it despite how much he wanted to scream.

"Rochefort and Mademoiselle Beauchamp are the only people I can trust." The King repeated. "It is their work and their work alone that has saved us time and time again and in them I know our dear Cardinal is watching over me still." His voice broke slightly as he spoke of his beloved Richelieu.

Never had Athos been gladder that he was dead.

"Go." Louis ordered.

"But...sire..."

"I can hardly bear to look at you." He turned from his wife and began to move from them. "You Musketeers, return to your garrison." He called behind him as he left the room.

Anne turned and fled in the opposite direction; Constance and Aramis hot on her heels as D'Artagnan and Porthos lingered only for a moment.

Athos found his feet moving of their own accord as he caught a flash of a smirk cross Rochefort's face. A single glance over his shoulder showed the blonde Comte place a single hand on the small of Anna's back just as the double doors to the chamber closed and sealed them apart.

* * *

Heels clicking on the parquet flooring of the palace, Anna wound her way through the endless corridors towards the ruckus that had broken out almost immediately after the Queen and her entourage had left the King.

"You all need to learn some respect!" Her stride quickened at Porthos' shout and gesturing behind her she ushered a group of Red Guards ahead to try and quell whatever disagreement that had broken out.

She rounded the final corner alone as her new regiment engaged the quartet of Musketeers.

They were brawling in the short stretch of corridor leading to the Queen's suite of rooms. The Red Guards lining the way had obviously pissed one of them off and now fists were flying between the warring regiments.

"Break it up." She's barely raised her voice to issue the command but the effect was instantaneous; the Red Guards stiffened before stepping away from their foes and falling back into neat lines. "I believe you were ordered to return to your regiment, not brawl with palace guards." She fought to keep her tone bored and her eyes away from the betrayed looks in the Musketeers eyes. "Are you denying the King's direct command?" She felt her stomach turn as she met Queen Anne's gaze.

"There must be no suggestion that our **faithful** Musketeers are disloyal." Anna was sure that if it had been deemed proper, the Queen would have actually spat at her.

"Too late for that, Madame." Her hand slid to the sword at her waist as a new voice joined the fray. She hadn't heard him approach; had no idea how long he'd been behind her and she was glad then, that she had stayed fully in character during this brief encounter.

"You will address me as Your Majesty!" She'd never seen Anne so angry, so hurt. It was heart-breaking.

"You will die for this." She barely looked at Aramis as he strode towards her and Rochefort. "You will both die for this."

"I know what you are, Musketeer." Rochefort sneered as Porthos, D'Artagnan and Constance shot her identical looks of hatred. "What you are and what you've done."

"If the Queen comes to any harm; you will pay for it with your blood." It took a heartbeat for her to realise that Athos' threat was aimed directly at her and not the blonde behind her. A simple blink had him shoving past her with a growl of disbelief and she felt her heart deflate at the line of Musketeers refusing to look at her as they stormed past.

She held her head high as their footsteps faded and merely stared down Constance and the Queen as they turned and slammed the doors of the royal suite behind them.

Rochefort was too unhinged now to let a chink in her armour go un-noticed.

This was her most challenging role mission yet; infiltrate not just a royal court but the innermost circle of a man who himself was a spy. She had no commander for this and knew that by the time the Musketeers returned to the Garrison she would have no friends in that regiment.

She was alone for this; her most dangerous yet most important mission, for if she failed at this…they would all die.

* * *

He was still shaking. His hands were balled into fists at his side as he followed his friends through Paris, but they were still shaking.

She had betrayed them. Him. France.

The soft blink of her eyes in response to his parting words had broken something inside of him. Even after spending so long apart in those five years after they'd joined the regiment, he'd never even questioned where her loyalties lay. But now; bedecked in the Cardinal's favourite shade of red with Rochefort at her side and not even a furrow of her brow at the thought of the Queen being harmed…

"Rochefort knows." He forced his eyes from his boots and up into Aramis' drawn face. The distress in his friend's eyes was enough to make him stem his line of thought and focus instead on the immediate threat.

"If Rochefort's advances to the Queen were treason, what does that make yours?"

Aramis paused for a moment, his sudden stop catching the attention of Porthos and D'Artagnan as they rounded back to their stalled friends.

"Love."

"I'm sure the King will appreciate the difference."

"What's going on?" Porthos asked as he and D'Artagnan reached them.

Athos merely watched as Aramis played with his gloves and licked at his lips in an effort to avoid answering his best friends question.

"You created this mess; tell them." Athos said, verbally nudging him forward.

Aramis nodded once before glancing around at the bustling street surrounding them.

"Not here." He told them. "Somewhere with no ears."

* * *

He could see her everywhere he looked: a pair of women's gloves on their table, a neatly made bed and a small vase of flowers under the window. The air even smelt like her; a delicate waft of whatever it was she used every morning hit him as he opened the door to their shared room.

He stepped aside as four Musketeers filed in before bolting the door closed behind Treville who they'd collected on the way to Athos' private lodgings.

The men took up varying positions in the room; D'Artagnan at the foot of their bed with his back to the window, Porthos leaning against the wall nearest the door, Aramis opposite with his arms crossed and head bowed while Treville simply watched them all expectantly.

"Well?" The former Captain asked as Athos took a single step forward to stand next to him. "What's this all about?"

Athos fixed his stare onto Aramis who simply fidgeted and refused to meet anyone's eyes. Athos heaved a sigh but was secretly glad for this meeting; the thought of returning to this room, their home, alone was one that would have required copious amounts of wine and would likely have led to the destruction of quite a few items of furniture.

"Aramis slept with the Queen."

There was a beat of silence as Treville's jaw dropped and D'Artagnan and Porthos' heads snapped to the silent Musketeer.

"You're not serious?" Treville asked, his eyes pleading for Athos to tell them it was a joke.

"Would he joke about such a thing?" Aramis asked, his voice hoarse as all eyes returned to him.

"How? When?" Porthos asked.

"At the convent when her life was threatened." Aramis told him, meeting his eye and offering a half smile as Porthos continued to stare at him in utter confusion and hurt.

"You didn't try to stop it?"

"If I'd known what he was going to do, I would have shot him there and then." Athos assured his Captain. "What's done is done."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Porthos' stare hadn't moved from his best friend and Athos knew that he would be the one who felt Aramis' choice to keep this from them the hardest.

"I had to protect the Queen's reputation."

"You could've done that by not sleeping with her." Athos fought a laugh at D'Artagnan's comment; as much as he liked the lad, he wasn't exactly the paragon of preserving a married woman's reputation.

The room fell silent again as the three men digested the news.

"There's more." He heard himself say as Aramis sighed.

"The Dauphin might be my son." He told them before shaking his head and correcting himself. " **Is** my son."

Treville merely threw his hands up in disbelief as he turned from Aramis while Porthos pushed from the wall and had two handfuls of Aramis' collar in a second. The pair simply stared at each other; Aramis' feet almost off the ground as Porthos struggled to understand everything.

Athos merely watched the pair, signalling for D'Artagnan to stay put; they needed to sort this themselves.

Slowly but surely, Porthos released him; the tension leaving him as he pulled Aramis forward into a hug. It was exactly what Athos had hoped would happen. He knew that it would take a while for Porthos to fully forgive Aramis but…he would always be there for his friends and the pain in Aramis' face was clear for everyone to see as he spoke of his son.

He'd also guessed that Treville would be the one to separate them and with a hand on eithers chest he pushed them apart, forcing Aramis back against the wall.

"You are speaking of the next **King of France**!" He seethed, pushing Porthos further back to give him space to round on Aramis.

"You can't be certain that he is **your** son." D'Artagnan said, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

"I know he is."

"Aramis..." The sigh of disbelief was echoed by Porthos and Treville.

"And still more." Athos added; Treville's head snapping to him with an arched brow as if to ask what exactly could be worse. "Rochefort knows."

The silence that followed this time was deathly. There was no disbelief only cold, hard fear for their friend.

"Does she know?" Athos didn't even need to ask who Porthos was referring to as the large man's jaw tightened.

"Yes." He all but whispered.

"Then there's nothing to be done…" D'Artagnan said as Treville released Aramis to glance around them all confusedly. "…he's dead."

"What are you talking about?" Treville asked as Aramis' head fell back into the wall in defeat. "Who else knows?"

"Anna." Aramis told him. "She was at the convent too and-"

"Anna won't say a word." Treville told them. "She's loyal to a fault and would die for any of you four."

"We thought so too." Porthos huffed. "And then we saw her at the palace."

"The palace? Is this about that arrest warrant? I thought she'd have dealt with that by now; the King-"

"Seems to have supported Rochefort's decision to make her deputy of the Red Guards." Treville's eyes fixed on D'Artagnan as the boy spoke. Athos could almost hear the man's brain whirring as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"She's with him." Athos told him as Treville slowly turned. "I don't know how or why or how long…but she's with him and against us."

"But Anna…" Treville tailed off. "She wouldn't…she couldn't…"

"She is." Porthos told him. "I knew something wasn't right; it hasn't been for a while but I never thought…"

"What's that?" Athos asked, cutting across Treville as he saw D'Artagnan frown at something before reaching over the bed to lift a piece of paper from the sheets.

"It's…a story?" He frowned at the paper before walking over to the group of men and heading Athos the sheet.

He stared down at the familiar handwriting and frowned at the single sheet in confusion: _The Story of the Border Brothers._

"I have no idea what it is." He told him happily passing it over to Treville's outstretched hand. Their frowns deepened when the man let out a huff of laughter.

"What is it?" Porthos asked.

"The reason she can't tell you anything; it's the only clue she could leave you without being dragged to the gallows herself."

He glanced around the room and let a soft smile fall onto his lips as he read from the sheet.

"Once upon a time…"

* * *

… _on the outskirts of France, a Frenchman fell in love with a woman who was passing through his village. The couple were ostracised from society, and, upon their marriage, they fled to a small free-holding on the outskirts of France. Years later, the couple were blessed with twin boys who soon grew into strong young men and enlisted in the French military._

 _The boys spent many a year in uniform before returning to their parents, medals gleaming proudly on their chests. But as their mother fell ill, they knew that they had to stay and could not return to their beloved capital._

 _Remaining in the countryside, the boys watched as their mother grew weaker and weaker. One day, she pulled her children close to her and whispered the secret she and her husband had kept from them; her chance encounter with the love of her life was all because she was fleeing her family…she was Spanish. Days later, as they buried their mother in the soil of her adopted country, the boys thought back to their time in Paris, and recalled how the country's leaders were having difficulty placing operatives in the enemy nation._

 _Uniting to assist their beloved country, one brother secured building materials, the other returned to their former Captain and explained their plan: two houses were to be built, identical to their childhood home, on opposite sides of a field that was known to house the France/Spain border right through its centre._

 _So, for the first time in their lives, the brothers parted, knowing they would never be able to spend time together again. The eldest of the twins resided on the French side of the field, while the youngest made a home in Spain._

 _The first brother, older only by minutes, would on occasion receive men from the capital and house them for a night before escorting them through the field to the second brothers house. The guests would be led up to an unused bedroom and encouraged to change into whatever fashion was most prominent in their intended destination as the eldest brother left and returned to his farmhouse. The second brother would hand over any identification papers needed by the guest before escorting them through the rural countryside and depositing them as close as they could get without being seen._

 _Monthly, the brothers would each drag a chair to the centre of the field, maintaining the invisible line between them and pass letters to each other. The younger brother would hand over a sealed envelope with his address emblazoned upon it and the eldest would open it to reveal another envelope addressed to somewhere in Paris as he handed over the necessary documents for their next guest._

 _Each man devoted his life to serving France and helping their fellow man across into Spain for intelligence gathering._

* * *

"I don't understand." Aramis said, pushing off the wall to glance at the sheet. "It's just a story."

"It's the truth." Treville told them, moving to take a seat at the small table in Athos and Anna's room. "It's her truth."

He set the sheet onto the table top and spared a second to glance around the room. He couldn't believe he'd doubted her, even for a second. She'd said she was going to tell them but with everything that had happened, he couldn't blame her for keeping it quiet; it wasn't exactly something that could be blurted out.

But it was time they knew and he hoped he did her story justice.

"Anna was a spy."

He let the four words hang in the air as his eyes settled on Athos. He'd wondered why the man had seemed more down than usual when they'd appeared at the Garrison and his Lieutenant had mumbled something about following them. Seeing Anna at Rochefort's side must have killed him but now, now he hoped this would explain it all.

"What do you mean, she was a spy?" Aramis asked, head snapping up. "A spy for who?"

"Us; France." Treville told him as Athos slid into the seat opposite him. "In the Spanish court."

"Anna…our Anna; the woman who couldn't keep D'Artagnan's birthday party a secret…was a spy?" Porthos asked, a deep crease between his brows. "No offence, Captain; but you're gonna have to give us more than that."

"About five years ago I sent Anna across the border and into France using these brothers." He told them, gesturing to the story. "She was able to infiltrate the court and get close to the King. We heard rumour that Vargas was looking for a mole in the court after a few pieces of key information made its way to us and we were able to act before anything war-inducing happened…so I pulled her out and used here in France instead."

"That's when I was couriering orders back and forth to her." Athos mused, his hand running through his hair.

"Exactly." Treville nodded, noting how the other three men were silently exchanging looks. "But then, two years later…I sent her back in. She spent 20 months posing as the King's favourite mistress and sent us more information about his plans than we've ever received before. She was invaluable to us but we knew that we couldn't stretch her too thin; vultures were circling again and the King wanted her out with an order to leave only when she had a story good enough so she may one day return."

"She was a spy." Aramis breathed.

"When she returned she did a bit more work through France before I recalled her to Paris…she's been here ever since."

"So why is she with Rochefort?" Porthos asked. "If she's so loyal…I've seen things, Captain." He sighed. "Things that don't add up."

"What things?"

"So much." He shot Athos an apologetic look before turning to Treville. "They've been meeting in secret since he arrived in Paris. I asked her about it but she said it was nothing and then in the old fort at Chatillon when we were locked together; he couldn't stop talking about her…I've known something wasn't right but…"

"You don't know for sure-"

"What about when she was kicking Milady de Winter from the palace?" Porthos pressed, focusing on Athos. Treville watched as the man shifted in his seat; a flurry of conflicting emotions clear in his usually guarded eyes. "You saw how they were together; like they were old friends."

"The King said she and Rochefort made 'quite the team' when the Dauphin was ill." D'Artagnan reminded them as Treville watched Aramis pale at the thought of the Prince…his son…being that close to death. He shook his head as he tried once again to figure exactly how Aramis had managed to keep that a secret and tuned back into D'Artagnan. "And it's not the first time he's publicly praised them both."

"Athos…Captain…" Porthos began. "…as much as I want to trust her; I don't think we can anymore." He said. "You saw her today; she was more at ease than I've seen her in months…how do we know she wasn't turned while in Spain?"

They fell silent again and Treville wanted to scream. He knew in his heart that she would never betray them but it was all stacking up against her and he just wanted to grab her and ask why she didn't tell him anything? He could have helped her. He glanced back to the story she'd left in a desperate attempt to get them to trust her but…he understood their situation. As far as the world knew; she was a Red Guard now and he could do little to disprove it.

He ran his fingers over the note, staring at its rushed words and hoping that one of them could still believe in her. His fingers stilled as he noticed something and immediately cut across whatever fresh evidence Porthos was presenting.

"What if she told you herself?" He asked, looking up from the note. "What if she left a message?"

"She hasn't." Athos told him; his voice completely devoid of emotion. "She just let them arrest her and the next we saw she was in a new uniform with Rochefort's hands on her.

"But what if she has?" He pushed the note towards his Lieutenant and pointed down the side of it.

"I don't-"

"Read." He insisted and watched as a flash of realisation broke out over Athos' features as he saw what Treville had seen.

"What is it?" D'Artagnan asked as the three others crowded around them. Treville turned the note to them and pointed to the start of every paragraph individually.

"Ignore the first one and what do the letters spell?"

"My god." Aramis breathed as they too read her secret note: _TRUST ME_

* * *

The Dauphin was gurgling in her arms as Anna crossed from the baby's new nursery in the King's adjoining room. It had almost killed her to instruct Marguerite to remove the child from the Queen and place him in the care of his father.

She had been able to do nothing but watch as the governess whisked the child away and Anne crumpled before her. With Rochefort watching from the doorway she hadn't been able to take the Queen in her arms and whisper a plea for forgiveness as she'd wanted, and instead was forced to curl her lip into a sneer at the small sob that left the bereft mother.

They were all here now; in the King's chambers where His Majesty was laying across a chaise complaining of a headache while Rochefort watched on. Apparently, the only person who couldn't sense the tension brewing was Lemay as he happily mixed a remedy for the King.

"Two drops of this medicine in some wine should ease the headache, Your Majesty." He told Louis as he followed his own instructions and let two droplets of the clear liquid fall into a waiting goblet. "But you must rest." He added, handing the King his drink.

"How can I when those I trust betray me?" Louis asked, sitting up and taking a long drag of the drink.

"I'll see the King is not disturbed." Rochefort said. Anna felt his gaze fall onto her as with a few quick whispers to the baby; he quieted and nestled in to her.

"Allow me to examine that." Lemay recaptured their attention as he approached Rochefort and gestured to his eyepatch.

"No need."

"There might be some risk of infection."

"You can go now." She said, startling the doctor with her brashness. "His Majesty and the Comte are fine." She knew the doctor noted the pleased smile Rochefort shot her as the man packed away his equipment and hastily bid them a good day.

"The Queen has always been so loyal." Louis sighed as the doors sealed behind Lemay, leaving just him, Rochefort, Anna and the Dauphin in the room. "She must have been distracted out of her wits." He added and Anna thought back a handful of months to when the King had been abducted by slavers. She was so stupid to have not been here; at the palace and paying full attention to what Rochefort was doing to a distraught Queen. "She's been very foolish. But...but perhaps she was just thinking of the Dauphin."

"She must be brought to account." Rochefort reminded him, stepping in front of the King to block his view as the man tried to elicit a smile from his son. "Her treason put the country in danger."

"If anyone else spoke of her like that, I would have his head!"

"Forgive me, sire. My loyalty got the better of me. I was only thinking... of France."

"But I suppose you're right." He sighed and drained his glass. "She must be punished." He placed it onto his side table and resumed his sprawled position on the chaise. "Let her think I'm still angry for now and later, I will forgive her bad judgment."

Anna watched as Rochefort merely bowed in response; the picture of obedience before his King. She wanted to be sick. This was the closest she'd ever gotten to Rochefort and it was her first time seeing him interact one-on-one with the King. She couldn't believe how easily he was playing him.

"Can we trust the governess?" Louis asked, tilting his head to look at her. "Is my son safe with her?"

"I approved her myself, Your Majesty." She reminded him, taking a step forward to place the child back into his line of sight. "And Rochefort has been monitoring her; I believe your son will be in good hands."

"Excellent: you may return him to her now I have your approval." He waved to the baby and grinned when the child tried to copy. "I feel so at ease with you both at my side." He sighed. "You make an excellent pair."

"I couldn't agree more, Sire." Rochefort said, smirking slightly as she avoided his gaze to coo at the Dauphin again.

"A hunting accident you say?" Louis asked, focusing on Rochefort's eyepatch. "I like it; it's very piratical."

"My quarry fought harder than I expected." Rochefort told him and Anna felt her stomach flip.

Of course she knew what had happened with the Queen; she had ears everywhere. but she was trying to ignore it for now; she had bigger things to deal with and couldn't afford to let rage consume her and scupper all her plans.

She only hoped Athos got her note.

* * *

His mind was still reeling from what Treville had revealed to them: Anna was a spy. And a good one at that, apparently.

Looking back over the years it was starting to make sense; lengthy periods away with tasks she couldn't talk about, a considerable knowledge of how to get around France, a closeness with the monarchs that even he, the Lieutenant of the Musketeers didn't share, and the ability to speak Spanish as well as, if not better than, Aramis.

And then there was the note. _Trust me._ He wanted to. He so wanted to. But there was still something nagging at him. She knew everything about him; probably more than he knew about himself and yet she had kept this from him.

He understood a little; she'd be executed for treason if it ever got out but they were living together now and he was ready. Go he was so ready for more.

They'd spent years being together but not being together and since Pinon he had an urge to take another step. Perhaps it was the sight of Thomas' tomb after all these years; untouched by time while the world had continued to move on, or the fact his people still adored her…

He told himself it was the fact that she'd been lying to him for five years that he was drinking so heavily. But he knew he was lying. He knew it was because he was afraid that now he knew, things would never be the same between them.

Porthos was taking this hard. First Aramis had been lying to him and now his suspicions about Anna were true. Forgiveness would be hard for the man and Athos had to question whether he would be able to offer it when he next saw her too.

He was angry. He realised it now as he finished another cup of wine. He was so damn angry at her for putting herself in this position with no one at her back.

She may never walk away from this. Rochefort wasn't exactly the most sane of men and with the Queen firmly out of reach now he could see how the Comte's appreciation of Anna had grown. If she put one step wrong, she'd die.

"You look cheery." His head snapped up from his empty glass as she spoke. "Learnt some hard truths, have we?" She glanced to the item in his hand, the one he had been absentmindedly playing with as he attempted to organise his thoughts, and he closed his fist around it. "Struggling to forgive? Isn't this very déjà vu?" He watched as her hand toyed with the band of green ribbon around her throat. "I assume there's a reason you asked for this meeting?"

"You've been close to the King and Rochefort; tell me what information you have on him."

"Straight to the point as ever." She sighed, rolling her eyes as two pair of footsteps approached her from behind. "Am I so fearsome you need reinforcements?" He merely arched a brow at her before pushing from his seat and leading her to the small backroom of the inn with Treville and D'Artagnan following behind as he slipped the delicate ring from his hand into his pocket.

"Look, whatever your price is, we will pay it." Treville told her as they entered the backroom and Milady happily leant against the windowsill.

"The Queen's life may depend on what you know." D'Artagnan added as she merely smiled at Treville. Her grin faded and she pushed off from the sill.

"My God." She breathed, glancing around at them all. "This isn't about the Spanish letters…it's about Aramis and the Queen." He didn't need to ask to know it was Rochefort who had told her. "So, it is true." She mused, striding to stand in the centre of the triangle formation they'd fallen into. "Just think what information like this might be worth."

"I told you she can't be trusted."

"Oh, I have no loyalty to Rochefort." She laughed as D'Artagnan turned away from her with a sneer. "The man is insane." She added. "You want the same deal she did." She mused and Athos frowned. "You didn't know?" She asked. "Not surprising though since you didn't know whose side she was on either." She laughed. "Anna came to me with the same question a while ago, but refused my price. I'm quite glad now; it means I get to sell it to you."

"With a hefty price tag, no doubt." Athos drawled, watching as she flashed him a grin and slowly strode over to him.

"Well, what else would you expect from a woman like me?" She asked, batting her eyelashes as they stood practically chest-to-chest.

"You disgust me." She laughed at D'Artagnan's comment and stepped back.

"Meanwhile, the King is bouncing another man's child on his knee." She turned to D'Artagnan. "Your morality will not stand, Musketeer."

"How do we know you won't betray us?"

"You don't. then again, you didn't know that dear Anna would betray you either, yet you stuck with her until the proof was undeniable." She chuckled again before taking a moment and delivering her information in a single breath. "Rochefort is a Spanish agent: he has been in the pay of the Madrid spy-master Vargas ever since his return and despite what you long to believe, Anna is not who you thought she was."

* * *

"I never meant to keep any secrets from you." Aramis said as he and Porthos reclined against the bannisters of the stairs leading to the Captain's office at the Garrison. "But you must understand why I had to."

The burly Musketeer said nothing, just brought his cup to his lips and drank deeply. Aramis understood. Porthos was always going to be the one who took the revelation the hardest.

He had almost told him so many time through Anne's pregnancy and then once his son had been born and Anna had gifted him with that one quick look, there hadn't been a day when he hadn't wanted to tell him.

"Do you love her?" Porthos asked.

"If she were an ordinary woman..." Aramis sighed. "…it might be possible, but she isn't."

"You have a child." Porthos breathed as though realising it for the first time.

Aramis wondered what he saw when he looked at him now; did he still see his best friend or would this forever sit between them?

"I should have just walked away, but...I've never met a woman like her: her courage, her endurance, her kindness." He smiled at the memory of their night together and every stolen moment since. "And she needed me."

He didn't know how many nights since had been spent wondering what their lives would have been like if she were just another woman. He could picture their home with its roaring fires and his boy playing at his feet. But he knew that if she were just another woman that he'd met at the market, there wouldn't have been the same pull; he was drawn to her because she was who she is.

"If you really love her, there's one thing you can do to prove it…" Porthos said, breaking him from his reverie. "Deny it ever happened." He felt a rush of air leave him at Porthos' unexpectedly harsh words delivered so softly. "That boy is the King's son, Aramis. That can't change...no matter what."

* * *

He couldn't breathe. He was trying but it wasn't working and every little intake of air through his nose was going nowhere. He could see that Treville and D'Artagnan were equally shocked but…he didn't know why but he believed her. 100%. Who else would know all of this?

Not just about Rochefort, he was sure they could have dug that up themselves if they'd had more time but…he knew Milady had been at the palace this morning. He'd seen her as they were leaving so she would know…know where Anna's loyalties lay.

Was he wrong about her? Could she have turned on them all? Treville still refused to believe so but…

"Why would the Spanish attack a Spanish Queen?" D'Artagnan asked and Athos took a moment to realise that he and Treville had drawn chairs closer to Milady. "What do they gain?"

"Ambassador Perales never believed in Vargas' scheme." She told them as Athos moved to take a seat on the table he had been leaning against. He couldn't focus on Anna now; he needed to be on top form to figure out how to stop Rochefort. "That's why Rochefort ordered his death."

"How can you know that?"

"Because it was me who killed him."

 _Of course it was._ He thought to himself. Why hadn't he considered this before? It was obvious; who else would someone in the palace go to if they needed an Ambassador killed?

"You know the captain lost his position because of you." D'Artagnan spat, launching himself from his seat to pace.

"D'Artagnan, let me worry about that." The boy waved away his Captain as Athos fixed his focus on Milady.

"I should have guessed: the murder had your hallmark."

"I did what I had to do: Rochefort knew too much and was going to expose me to the King." She said, head high. "I won't apologise."

"I don't expect you to." He huffed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. _Is that what Anna will say too? I did what I had to do?_ He shook his head again to clear the thought.

"None of this helps us destroy Rochefort, we need **proof of his guilt**." D'Artagnan reminded them.

"I can get you inside the palace." Milady said, their heads snapping back to her. "I've got a friend in a position of power on the inside: they'll be able to show you where he keeps his most important documents. There might be something incriminating amongst them."

"Can we trust your 'friend'?" Athos asked and he watched as Milady chewed her lip for a nervous second. He'd never seen her unsure about a decision.

"We made a deal." She told him. "And despite everything…I trust them."

"All right." Treville agreed. "But our immediate priority is the Queen's safety. We have to get her away from him."

* * *

Athos made a mental note to increase the amount of guards covering the edges of the palace gardens when all of this was over. It was a joke how easy Milady had been able to get through a gap in a wall and then a hedge and lead not just him but D'Artagnan, Aramis and Porthos trough the gardens until they were only a few hundred yards away from the palace itself.

Five people, and the guards hadn't seen or heard a thing.

He chose not to dwell on how many others knew of this and how often Milady had snuck onto palace grounds. Yes, they definitely needed tighter security.

It was bordering on ridiculous now, they simply descended a set of stone steps with three guards mere metres away, and no one had turned. He could have led an entire orchestra past, still playing, and no one would have noticed.

The moved through the hedges until they came to small clearing far away from any patrol where a gated arch stood out clearly against the pale bricks of the palace.

It hadn't even been locked. He was half tempted to go back and cause a fuss just to get some movement out of Rochefort's patrols but as Helene produced a book of matches from the folds of her cloak and promptly lit a lantern that had been waiting at the gate, he elected to simply follow her into the pitch black tunnels as Porthos sealed the gate behind them all.

They were silent as they followed the flicker of light around corners and down corridors until the gate they had entered through was a mere memory.

He opened his mouth to ask exactly how she was so familiar with these tunnels when a shadow moved slightly in the distance. He reached out and tugged Milady back by the hood of her cloak as the men around him reached for their rapiers; clearly having spotted the movement too.

"What are you doing?" Milady asked, frowning as D'Artagnan winced at the volume of her voice. He gestured ahead to where he had seen the flicker and Milady simply rolled her eyes. "They think you're Rochefort." She called out, lifting the lantern higher.

"I've played my part well then." The darkness replied and he felt his heart skip a beat as Helene flashed him a smile before stepping forward and letting her lantern illuminate the person waiting for them.

He saw her foot first. Just one; resting on the stone floor of the tunnels. The light slowly moved up the figure, showing skin tight leather breeches and her second leg bent with her foot resting on the wall behind her. A fitted crimson tunic that grazed the top of her thighs was next to appear as the flame moved up over black clad arms that rested on the top of a ruby hilted rapier.

Her head was leant back against the wall too, but tilted to them as she finally came into full view.

"It's concerning how no one questioned a change to the patrol pathways in the gardens." She mused, her lips still painted that blood red as they stretched into a smile. "Made getting you lot in here much easier though, so who am I to complain?" She pushed off the wall and stood in the centre of the tunnel facing them.

No one had moved and Milady was simply smirking at him.

"You're a spy." He wasn't sure who had spoken first, but he was glad someone had broken the silence.

"I am."

"For Rochefort." The voice added and he began to recognise it as D'Artagnan.

"For France." She clarified. "Did you not get my note?"

* * *

They were still staring at her. She could see the conflict in the eyes of Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan while Helene continued to grin and Athos…dear Athos was just letting his eyes slide up and down her body.

Being Rochefort's pet had very few perks, in fact, it only had two; being able to listen in on him whenever she wanted and an admittedly gorgeous new uniform (she was stealing the breeches once this was all over): the red tunic had elicited more than a mere grin from Rochefort when she'd first stepped out in it an hour ago, but the glint in his eye had simply spurred her on to get the Musketeers inside the palace walls as fast as possible.

She wasn't exactly sure how Helene had managed to get the message to her, but she'd done all that was asked of her and cleared the way for the men to sneak through the garden and then the tunnels.

But they apparently hadn't caught up yet; they hadn't figured out that she was behind it all and was most definitely on their side.

"We need to keep moving if you want to get the Queen out before nightfall but I'm more than happy to answer any questions along the way." She told them with a half-smile.

That seemed to spur them on as Porthos gave a sharp nod and Milady began leading them forward again.

"Tell us everything." Athos instructed, his voice tight.

"Not really a question…" Milady drawled and Anna sent her a glare.

"I can give you the highlights." She offered, falling into step with Helene before rattling off all she knew. "I'm going to assume that Treville told you about Spain and what I did so I'll save the full story of that for another time…I've had my suspicions about Rochefort since you brought him to Paris." She began. "And then when we returned from rescuing General de Foix, he told me that he knew who I was and what I did and then proceeded to hold it over my head. It's been a nightmare trying to keep from revealing everything to everyone but it did give me the excuse of spending time here."

She gestured to the palace above them.

"Then it was just a matter of laying low and picking up bits of information; I figured out he was with Vargas pretty quickly but I still have no real proof of it and last time I got close enough he had me suspended." She heard them start to mutter behind her as things started to fall into place. "Then when Ambassador Perales was killed I knew it had to do with him, especially after he sent me that woman's ear."

She shuddered at the memory of opening the trinket box and finding it inside. "Another time." She told them before they started asking more questions.

"Then there was the whole Princess Louise thing which finally gave a good lead on how to get evidence after the girl told us that Rochefort hired her and her lover to kill Princess Louise, then impersonate her to kill Archbishop Jacqueme and the Duc de Barville and try and kill Chancellor Dupree to stop a Sweden-France treaty against Spain."

"Us?" Aramis asked.

"That would be me." Helene grinned. "I told you; we made a deal – we're allies now."

"And on top of all of this there's his unhealthy obsession with the Queen." Anna continued, ignoring the look Athos gave her at the word 'allies'. "I've been keeping an eye on that too and Rochefort knows it but I never expected for him to attack her." She said, turning to a little. "I would have cut him down myself if I'd known." She promised. "But then I was arrested and Rochefort offered me a deal and I knew it was my only shot to get close enough to him to actually stop him."

She stopped them at the base of a set of steps that would take them up into the heart of the palace.

"I realised that I'd probably played my part too well so I had the note planted in our rooms." She told Athos.

"Trust me." He said, repeating what the sheet had revealed to them.

"And do you?" He simply looked away and se swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat before nodding lightly. "I understand." She turned back to the steps. "I can get you to the Queen but you're not going to like who I am on the way." She told them. "So let's get on with it."

She led them up the staircase and out onto a small landing deep within the palace. Glancing around the corner she cursed at the sight of two red guards.

"We need a distraction." D'Artagnan noted as they crowded behind her.

"No, you need their superior." She told him, turning to Helene. "I'll handle it, you get them to the Queen's wing."

"With an army of guards?" She glanced behind D'Artagnan to a scowling Porthos.

"I understand your trepidation, but if I was going to betray you, I'd have filled the tunnels with men and killed you in the dark." She stepped back onto the first step of a staircase that would lead her up a level to allow her to drop back down to the guards. "This is where we part for now, gentlemen." She told them. "See you soon."

She didn't look back as she jogged up the steps, across a strip of landing before rounding the corner and slowly making her way down another staircase, her mask falling into place with every step.

"What are you two loitering here for?" She asked as she stepped off the bottom step. The two men whirled to face her, hands on their hilts. "I asked you a question." Their hands dropped as they realised who she was.

"The Comte-"

"The Comte de Rochefort is no longer involved in guard rotations; do you not think the First Minister of France has anything better to do than assign you to a corridor?" She asked, watching them flinch.

"Madame, we-"

"Get out of my sight or I'll have you flogged."

They fell into quick bows at her bored tone before bolting in the opposite direction. Glancing down the corridor they had been headed, she sighed at the disappearing forms of four Musketeers making their way to the Queen.

* * *

It made sense. He couldn't think of anything else to say other than that; it made sense. Everything she'd hurriedly told them in the tunnels made sense. But he'd heard her; heard how she spoke to those men and it wasn't her.

He didn't know if it was the fact that he hadn't noticed how withdrawn she'd been and that she'd been secretly collecting information to bring down the First Minister, or if it was how easily she'd become someone so completely different, that disturbed him.

He hadn't had a chance to actually speak with her but she'd been upbeat in the tunnels, jokey even, and that was out of character too.

Anna was always thinking; she was weighing up pros and cons and always planning for what was around the corner. She wasn't the mysterious figure in a dark tunnel with a story to tell that was unbelievable to any who weren't living it.

Who was Anna? Was she the woman he came home to after long nights signing forms? Or was she this person whose job was lies and deceit? Was she either?

He was tired of pushing away thoughts of her; he just needed 10 minutes to sit down and actually think. He had no idea what the actual plan was other than to get the Queen away from the palace. It was a plan heavily favoured by Aramis and even Anna seemed eager for it go off without a hitch.

He wanted to think it was because she knew the Queen would be sae with them but there were so many conflicting stories floating around that he had no choice but to doubt her a little, even if it was slowly killing him to do so.

Maybe the plan was for Rochefort to use the Queen's absence as an admittance of guilt. How bad would it look for her to disappear mere hours after being accused of treason? Horrendously.

He opened his mouth to remind them so when he realised that they were at the doors to the Queen's suites with D'Artagnan flinging them open as he watched.

Too late.

"We must get you away from here to a place of safety." Aramis said as he strode into the room, the rest of them trailing behind. Athos could see how D'Artagnan and Porthos watched him now; they were doing what he had done for the first few palace visits after the Dauphin's birth – making sure he remained Aramis and not the Dauphin's father.

"I need to be with the King."

"Rochefort is a Spanish spy." Athos told her, repeating the only thing he knew was unquestionably true. "He will destroy you."

"No. My brother would not...he could not forsake me like this."

"I beg you: the palace is no longer safe." Aramis said, he and Anne a mere breath apart as they stared at each other. "Rochefort knows now." He didn't need to specify what the Comte knew for fear to bloom in the Queen's eye. The reaction was enough for Athos to once again push his doubts aside and simply continue with this plan, regardless of the outcome; he could not let Aramis watch the mother of his child be executed for treason. "The danger's too great."

"Are we talking or leaving?" Helene asked, striding into the room after dealing with the last in the path of unconscious guards they'd left on their way to the wing.

" **She's** helping us now?" He wanted to laugh at the outrage on Constance's face as she and Milady simply sneered at each other. That was the other thing niggling at him; when did Helene and Anna bury the hatchet? By the sounds of things, they've been working together for a while and-

"I can't abandon the Dauphin." The Queen said, interrupting his line of thought as he studied his former sister-in-law.

"I'll stay with him." Constance offered, breaking the stare-off she and Milady had been having.

"Constance, Rochefort knows you're the Queen's ally, should anything happen to you..."

"Her Majesty can't stay here and she can't see her son." Constance reminded D'Artagnan as the lad cupped her hands; his face drawn at the thought of leaving her with no protection. "But I can."

"We need to go." Porthos piped up as he watched the corridor, intently listening for approaching footsteps. "They might check on these guards at any moment."

"Anna will hold them off." Milady assured him but the mention of the woman's name had Constance glowering again.

"You'll go this way." Constance told them, heading for the other set of doors leading from the room. "It leads to the servant's landing; you won't be intercepted by the newest member of the Red Guard." She sneered at the regiment's name.

"Anna is-"

"What about them?" Porthos gestured to the slumped bodies outside the Queen's rooms, ignoring the glare from Helene as he cut her off from trying to redeem Anna's reputation with the Queen and Constance. But he understood; even if she were with them, it was better to let as many people as possible think she weren't.

"I'll deal with it." Helene bit out. "Just go." She waved them away as she turned to the bodies. "Go!" She insisted and as the others made their way towards the staircase at the end of the servants landing, Athos crossed the room to Helene.

"Will you be safe?"

"No-one's looking for me and if they start, I've got a friend who can point them in the wrong direction." She offered him a tight smile. "Just get the Queen to safety." He nodded once and turned to leave when she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "If you're going to do it, at least get something…prettier." He frowned at her strange words but heaved a sigh as he turned and found her with the silver band from his pocket between her fingers.

"When?"

"The inn." She shrugged and he recalled how close she'd stood to him. "When all this is over and you've decided if you want to be with her…get something more memorable than this piece of tin." She pushed the ring into his hand. "She deserves it." With that she turned and sealed the doors behind her; leaving the Queen's room empty of everyone but him, Constance and D'Artagnan as the couple embraced.

"You are sure about this?" D'Artagnan asked.

"Marguerite will help me: she's always been a friend to the Queen." Constance told him, pushing him lightly towards Athos where he waited at the open doors. "Go!"

They both turned and headed for the staircase as the doors closed behind them. D'Artagnan turned to him as they descended the steps.

"Can we trust-"

"I don't know."

* * *

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd elected to stay in Paris while the others tucked the Queen away in a pocket of France's vast countryside.

He told himself it was to keep an eye on Rochefort and to see how things developed here but, as he watched Anna leave the palace late in the evening, he knew it was a lie.

Something had told him to loiter at the palace and keep an eye out for any flash of a red tunic. He'd been stood, concealed in shadows and playing with the ring, for an hour and now, with the sun firmly set and the streets of Paris cloaked in darkness, she'd emerged.

Everything else had been quiet; not a whisper of a problem or the discovery of only Constance in the Queen's rooms. He wanted to believe it was Anna's doing; that she was buying them time to get Anne as far away as possible. God, he wanted to believe it.

It's why he was following her now. He needed to see her when she was doing what she apparently did best. No one looked up as she moved swiftly through the streets until she came to the entrance of the slums.

She didn't even glance behind her as she took an immediate corner and began navigating the labyrinth of streets in the most dilapidated part of Paris, with ease. How often had she snuck out? He asked himself. How many times had he not noticed her slip away from their bed?

She was too at ease here and the people were not paying her attention. That in itself told him that she was a common sight here. Unlike him. He was getting more than a few questioning looks from the beggars and the children who continued to play despite the late hour. They waved as Anna passed but paused their games completely for him.

Who was she?

It was the question he couldn't stop asking as he followed her up a flight of wooden steps and into some sort of raised warehouse. The beams were splitting and the floor was broken in places but again, she navigated them with ease, only stopping when voices could be heard.

He watched as she slipped into the shadows and remained, barely breathing as he twisted to peer at the scene unfolding before them.

"I've been searching for you for so long, Helene. Or whatever name you give yourself now."

"Catherine." Milady breathed and Athos wanted to let out a groan as he spied the red-head pointing a pistol at her. "What are you doing here?"

"The only consolation I had for the agony and humiliation you caused me was the knowledge Athos hanged you years ago." Catherine's voice was barely a whisper as she stepped closer to Helene, the pistol now digging into the back of her neck. "Then I lost even that."

"So now I assume you're going to put things right?" Milady asked and it was then Athos noticed the single noose hanging in front of the pair. "You never were very imaginative, were you, Catherine?"

"This is justice for Thomas de la Fere: my husband in all but name." She spat. "The man you stole from me and then murdered."

"Thomas was not the man you think he was." Helene told her and Athos felt his hands curl into fists as she tried, once again, to sully his brother's name. "He tried to kill me when he found out who I was; what I'd done."

"Spare me your lies!" Catherine cried, digging the pistol further into her neck. "No one believes them."

"Every word I have spoken about Thomas is the truth." Milady continued, her voice shaking only slightly.

Athos tore his eyes away from them for a second to gauge Anna's reaction and felt himself stiffen at the relaxed hold of her shoulders and her unclenched hands. It seems there is one person who believes her, and it killed him to see her swayed.

"When Thomas found out that I'd lied and stolen to survive, he flew into a rage I didn't think him capable of." She said. "I still have the scar of where he tried to run me through." Catherine's hand tightened around the pistol. "He wouldn't listen to me; he just kept going for me and after I fell I was just trying to protect myself." Her voice was rising as she recounted, for what Athos realised was likely one of the first times, what had happened that day. "I was just trying to protect myself but he was calling me a whore and accusing me of only being with him for money when really…I loved him." She said firmly, protesting as Catherine used her free hand to slip the rope over her neck. "He lunged again and…" She trailed off as a hammer clicked into place.

"That's enough, Catherine." He hadn't seen her step from the shadows but suddenly Anna was behind Catherine, with her own pistol pointed. "I'm going to have to ask you to put that…" She nodded to the pistol. "…down before you do something stupid."

"Oh good, the other whore has joined us."

"One of these days, you and I are going to have a long talk about your continued use of that word." She drawled, stepping closer. "But not now; I have too much to do and you're holding a vital piece of the puzzle hostage."

"You should both hang for what you did."

"Oh what did we do?" Milady asked with a sigh, clearly having composed herself enough to deal with the fact that she was once again wearing a noose. "It's not like we cast a spell over the household that would force both brothers into our arms." He knew she'd be rolling her eyes. "They didn't want you." She told her. "They wanted us, and can you blame them?"

"You bewitched them and-"

"Stop being a petulant child, Catherine." Anna sighed. "I tried to be nice to you in Pinon but I'm tired now; I've had a long day and I've got another one tomorrow so just **put it down and let her go**." The red-head flinched at the change in tone.

"You deserve this." Catherine whispered her hand sliding to Milady's back.

Athos was leaping from his hiding place in a heartbeat, rapier out and slicing through the rope as Helene stumbled forward her feet scrabbling on the edge of the open platform. The brunette fell into Anna's waiting arms as she tossed aside her pistol to catch her.

A sob from Catherine filled the air as Anna coached through deep breaths; the latter seemingly on the verge of tears herself as Athos contemplated how close she had been to actually swinging this time.

Anna was lifting the rope from her neck as Catherine reached out for her fallen pistol. Athos kicked it away with a growl and watched her eyes widen as they heard it hit the floor below.

"You couldn't have jumped out a minute earlier?" Anna asked as she helped Helene to her feet, ignoring Catherine's continued wails as she unclipped a purse from her belt.

"You knew I was there?"

"Which part of 'spy' are you having difficulty with?" Milady asked, smirking as Anna dropped the purse into her outstretched hand while massaging her neck with the other. "I told you he'd see me swing." She said to the blonde.

"I wanted to hear what you had to say." He told them, trying to find some normality in the scene of the woman he loves standing almost hip-to-hip with the woman they despised.

"And?" Helene asked.

"You both saved her." Catherine spat from her spot on the floor. "She killed him and you saved her!"

"She's working for the service of France." Anna told her. "Otherwise…"

"Her only service is to herself." Catherine said. "She's a murdering whore." Anna sighed at her choice of insult.

"Nevertheless, her mission is of vital importance and I can't allow you to interfere with it."

"You're as bad as her." Catherine sneered, rising to her knees to glare at Anna. "You think I haven't heard the rumours? Haven't heard about you and a new Comte?" Athos felt a glimmer of hope spark in his chest as Anna flinched almost imperceptibly at the accusations. "Tell me the truth…" Catherine turned to him. "Is that why you chose her? Does her cruelty excite you? Do you desire her because of it? Were you drawn to her because she is nothing but a common whore and readily spread her legs for you?"

It was the first time he'd ever hit a woman. He hadn't even felt himself do it, but the look of shock on Anna and Helene coupled with the hurt in Catherine's eyes as she cupped her cheek told him that he most certainly had.

"I love her because she loved me when I needed her most."

"Believe your own lies if you want, but don't expect me to swallow them." Catherine said. "I could have loved you, Athos. Loved you better than anyone else and we could have been happy together. But you chose her and that encouraged sweet Thomas to search for his own bride in the slums too. I don't care who warms your bed anymore; you deserve each other…but you can't let **her** go." She fixed her gaze on Milady.

"My God, does she never stop talking?" Helene groaned. "She was a nightmare at the wedding and I only had to put up with her for a few hours; how you did it, I'll never know."

"Patience of a saint." Anna replied and Athos was once again rocked by the easy camaraderie between them. "Hence why I haven't shot you yet."

"Rude. Although, that's a good idea." Helene mused. "Let's just shoot her and be on our way; this has taken too long as it is." Athos opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Anna simply fixed her with a look that had Helene's eyes rolling as she breathed out: "Just a thought."

"This ends here, Catherine." Athos said, crouching to eye-level with the red-head. "Forgive me if you can but otherwise; go home."

He stood, and with a final glance at the woman he was once to marry, he left the room; heading for the steps he had ascended to get here.

"I'm growing tired of people trying to hang me." He heard Helene complain as she and Anna followed.

"Perhaps if you weren't so…irritating?"

"How is this my fault?" Helene asked. "I did nothing and nearly died!"

"You did insult her a fair few times."

"She deserved it."

* * *

The child was crying again. No, not again; still. He hadn't stopped since Anna had handed him over to Marguerite this morning. Nothing would quiet it; not her cooing or her playing or even his snarl. The child was demanding attention and he was getting it.

Every time it's scrunched up, squirming and screaming face was turned to face him; Rochefort wanted to hurl it across the room. He was here because the King had asked him to keep him company and he sorely regretted not saying no.

But he had to be here; needed to keep an eye on Marguerite. The woman was, of course, expendable, but it had been an error on his part to let her see him switch out Lemay's medicine with a bottle of his own procurement.

She kept glancing to him now, and then the yellowed glass bottle on the King's bedside. If she didn't stop being so obvious about it; he'd strangle her.

"Why will he not be quiet?" Louis asked, his voice on the verge of whining. "Does he not love his father?"

Rochefort wanted to laugh at that; oh he loved his father all right. That's exactly why he was punishing them all.

"He will not settle without his mother." Marguerite told him, her arms jostling the child in another pointless attempt to sate him.

"Where is Anna?" The King asked. "He was fine in her arms."

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp is taking care of business in the city." Rochefort told him, hands flexing into and out of fists as the wails increased by another volume level. "She did not wish to leave you but I insisted that the city must continue to function despite the uncertainty with Her Majesty."

It had pained him to force her out; she was his only source of relaxation lately. But there was a job to be done and she must be seen doing it; otherwise the news of her…change of heart, would not circulate.

He could still picture the look on Athos' face when he saw her; all tight leather and corseted waist. He'd chosen the uniform himself; deciding to flatter every curve that that dammed regiment had overlooked.

She'd been kept in the shadows for far too long and nothing says 'welcome back' like a promotion and new clothes. He adjusted the cuff of his own plush leather jerkin.

"Here, let me take him." He sneered at the new voice and tilted his head to get a look at the woman loitering in the doorway of the Dauphin's new nursery.

The appearance of Constance Bonacieux, or whatever she now was, was unsettling. She should be at Anne's side; whispering pointless stories of hope and justice into her ear.

"Your Majesty..." His eyes snapped from the lingering Constance to a shaking Marguerite with the Dauphin in her outstretched hands. He followed her gaze across the room to the King and the copious amounts of his believed medicine that he was pouring into his wine.

"What is it?" Louis asked, his hand stilling. "Why is she staring? It's very unnerving." Rochefort slid his eyes back to Marguerite and simply raised an eyebrow at her. It did the trick; shaking her conscience away as she turned and handed the baby to Constance.

Louis simply turned from them all and continued to gulp down his wine. Rochefort strode from his spot in the corner to the open doorway where Marguerite remained; chewing her lip as she eyed the King.

"What is **she** doing here?" He asked, sneering at Constance and the quieting baby in her arms.

"She offered to help."

"You don't need help." The curl of his lip reminded her of his warning when she'd spied him changing the bottles: _'You have no future without me now. Everything I do, you are part of.'_ "Take the Dauphin away. The King needs rest." He instructed.

She left them with a small curtsey and Rochefort rolled his good eye at the deepening circles under the woman's eyes. It was pathetic really; all he'd done was ask her to keep quiet and the stupid girl couldn't even manage that without falling into despair.

He shut the double doors, sealing the Dauphin and his nurses from the exhausted King. The silence engulfed them immediately and images of Marguerite's dark eyes were replaced with laughing blue ones. After all that time in Spain, both in the palace and prison, he'd never believed that he could ever find a woman who wasn't Anne of Austria so…consuming.

"Perhaps his governess is right." Rochefort turned slightly to the King as Louis sighed. "The child should be with his mother."

"The Dauphin must stay with you, sire." He was tired of this conversation now; they'd had it at least fifteen times today. "He must remain untainted by questions over the Queen's conduct."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Louis huffed. "He is a baby. What can he possibly know of it? His mother meant no harm, I'm sure. Just send for her." He drained his goblet and set it down. "We shall display magnanimity and forgiveness."

Rochefort eyed the empty cup with a hidden smugness before refocusing on the King and offering him a tight smile.

"Your Majesty would benefit from a good night's sleep." He said. "Why not wait until the morning to tell the Queen of your decision?"

"Yes." Louis meandered to his four-poster bed and slumped across it. "You're quite right. Let us sleep on it."

* * *

"Where are we going?" It was the first words he'd spoken since they'd left the slums and Anna turned at the question.

"The palace." She told him as they tucked into the shadows offered by a street corner.

"The palace?"

"I told you I could get you inside Rochefort's office." Helene reminded him as she craned her neck for anyone watching them; they weren't exactly being discreet – she was in a voluminous green dress, Athos was in his Musketeer uniform and Anna was in a crimson tunic.

"You want to go now?" He asked.

"No, I thought turning up in the middle of the day when he's in there working would be preferable." Anna said, failing to hide the bite in her voice as he continued to question her. Wasn't Treville's vote of confidence enough for him?

He fixed her with an unamused stare and the pair simply locked eyes until Helene cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt but, if you're going to the palace, you need to go now before the new guard rotation starts."

"You're not coming with us?" Athos asked, and Anna felt herself lurch at the fact that he was now apparently more at ease in the company of the woman who killed his brother than her.

"Three is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"I can get you in and out easier." Anna told him. "It won't look suspicious if I'm wandering around by myself and hiding one is easier than hiding two."

There was a pause at the Musketeer seemed to ponder the plan and Anna huffed at the slight. Eventually, he gave a stiff nod and with a quick goodbye to Helene, they were alone.

* * *

"Do you believe her?" Athos asked as they made their way once again through the hidden tunnels underneath the palace. "Helene." He clarified. "Do you believe her story about Thomas?"

She was silent as she led him through the tunnels, her lantern their only source of light. He waited patiently for her answer, knowing that what she said next would determine everything.

"Yes." He felt his heart still. She had claimed to love Thomas like a sister and now she believed him to be a monster. "There was blood on the fireplace, remember? Blood that couldn't be explained. And she showed me the scar; it fits."

"You believe him capable of that?"

"I believe that she loved him and he loved her and it was all a huge misunderstanding." She paused, stopping their journey to meet his eyes. "Much like the one you've been experiencing recently."

"I-"

"I understand why you'd be hesitant to trust me." She offered him a tight smile. "I've kept so much from you and then you find me dressed to Rochefort's standards with his hands on me…I'd be wary too."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He wanted to laugh at the ludicrousness of having this conversation in whispers under the palace on their way to steal from The First Minister of France.

"It would have been treason to tell you." She shrugged. "But I knew that one day I would have had to so I had a plan to sit you down and explain it all but…" She sighed. "…I didn't and then Rochefort appeared and it would have been suicide to spill."

"I could have protected you."

She merely laughed.

"You could have tried but it wouldn't have worked." He arched a questioning eyebrow at her and she sighed, glancing around them as she too realised that they were going to have to do this here. "Rochefort and I are very similar." She began. "We were both placed in Madrid to collect information on the Spanish court. His cover was as the Queen's tutor when she was first betrothed to the King and mine was as the King's mistress. The difference is that he was caught." She ran a hand through her hair. "When the Cardinal sent him back after the Queen arrived here, he became careless and after he was captured, the Cardinal wanted a replacement; someone who wouldn't make the same mistakes."

"You."

"I'd become an asset outside of Paris; no one suspects the woman." She smiled again and he found himself returning the smile. "So they sent me. And I was great." She laughed. "Things turned sour when I actually had to start…being with the King." His smile faded. "I held it off for as long as I could; the British call it 'pulling an Anne Boleyn' but eventually I had to get into the bedroom."

He could feel himself recoiling from the conversation as she reached out to touch his wrist.

"What I'm about to tell you, not even the King knows…they'd kill me on the spot if they knew…" She took a breath, apparently spurred on by the fact he hadn't shunned her touch. "I drugged the King for months."

"You…you drugged the King of Spain…for months?" She nodded quickly, glancing around again.

"I gave him something that would give him vivid dreams about…us after I'd kiss him and then he'd wake up and assume…" She trailed off again. "It was only in the last few months that I actually…you know…because I realised I had to stop; it was starting to affect him and…if I'd killed him…"

"You slept with him?"

"And I hated it." He watched as a tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with a glare. "When I came back I felt so dirty…so undeserving of you so I tried to be this person who you could remember; someone still a little bit frail who maybe tears up…" She gestured to her face. "…but I'm not her anymore, Athos. And I can't keep pretending to be." She took another breath. "I've been spying since Rochefort shot Governor Alvarez to keep my cover."

"He what?" Athos asked, desperately thinking back to their rescue of General De Foix. "Why would-"

"He figured it out." She told him. "Figured who I am…was…at the same time as the Governor. Just as Alvarez was going to kill me, Rochefort saved me…and he's blackmailed me ever since."

"That was months ago." He breathed.

"And since then I've been working to collect information that can bring him down. Everything I told you…" She took his hands. "…is the complete truth." She squeezed them. "I'm working with Helene; it's a very tumultuous partnership but it's working, I interrogated the woman who killed and impersonated Princess Charlotte and then let Helene kill her…and that's just the tip of the iceberg." She let his hands go.

"You still could have told me."

"I was keeping you safe." She said. "The thought of anything happening to you or the others or the Queen…it made me sick. So, I played along. It was only when the news that the Queen was being held for treason that it started to snap into place."

"You were always going to join him." He realised. "That was the plan; you were always going to make him think he'd turned you…to get close enough."

"And here I am." She gestured to the red tunic. "I wish I could tell you more, but we have to keep moving, Athos…we've wasted too much time and I have to get you in there before Rochefort turns up."

She hesitated for a second, her mouth opening to add something, but stopped and turned back to the darkness ahead as she said:

"I'm not sorry for what I did, Athos; I saved a lot of lives. But she's gone; the one who was happy to lay awake for you…I can't pretend to be her anymore…and so I'm only sorry if you can't accept that."

* * *

She led him through the palace without much of a thought as to what she was doing. Her movements were automatic as she held him behind corners to check they were clear as they approached Rochefort's study.

The look in his eyes as she'd turned away from him down there…it was haunting.

She knew once it all came out that they would be different, perhaps irreparably so, but it still hurt like hell.

She was sick of pretending though. She couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't let people think she was fine with being left out of things because she was a woman. Tired of playing up the role of doting partner who plants a kiss on her man's cheek every time he steps away from her. It just wasn't her anymore.

She could live without him. She knew she could. She'd done it before and she'd do it again. Honestly, if they had no history together, they probably wouldn't even be together. She was independent and she knew Treville had been confused by her sudden transformation from spy extraordinaire to nothing more than a housewife.

She'd done too good a job of it though, people had forgotten who she was and what she was capable of and to an extent, it had worked in her favour as Rochefort saw her as little more than a doormat. But she could look back now and see that she hadn't just changed her outside appearance, she'd been lying internally too.

Every time she'd lamented over something or worried unnecessarily now made her sick. That wasn't her. She only panicked when it was a life or death situation; she was soldier, dammit!

Why she'd thought she'd have to change upon return here, she didn't know. But she regretted it now as she felt his eyes on her back as he worked through all she told him.

They weren't the same people as they were only a few days ago. That much was certain. But she was hoping that he could now see that they hadn't been the same for a long time, ever since they'd left Pinon the first time.

"Empty, as promised." She pushed open the ajar door of the Comte's office and let him in ahead of her.

He immediately moved to the desk and, after lighting the solitary candle there, began rifling through papers and trinkets' that Rochefort kept there.

"You're wasting your time." She told him, half-closing the door after a quick glance back up the corridor. "He keeps everything of value in here." She lifted an iron box from one of the many shelves lining the room and placed it on the table.

"It's locked." He noted after fiddling with the latch. "We need the-"

"Key?" She offered, sliding it from the pocket of her tunic. "Perks of being the favourite." She tried to joke as she slid it into the lock and lifted the lid.

They each pulled out a pile of letters and began scanning their contents.

"Anything?" She asked, though she already knew they'd find little; it wasn't her first time rifling through this place.

"Nothing." He sighed, dropping the pages back into the box as she closed its lid and slid the latch into place. "There must be something." He mused, turning away from her to scan the shelves.

She debated falling into Rochefort's chair and telling him it was pointless, though she doubted he'd appreciate how comfortable she'd appear in their enemy's office.

"I've-" She cut herself off as her ears strained to pick up the sound she thought she'd heard.

"What?" He asked, frowning as she held a finger to her lips and motioned for him to listen. "Footsteps." He said, his voice dropping to a whisper as their eyes widened in panic.

"He's not supposed to be here." She told him as they glanced around for somewhere to hide.

They could hear him clearly now; Rochefort speaking with his guard as they neared the room. Athos had his pistol in hand as she slid the box back into place on his shelves and was approaching the door silently.

"Wait." She hissed. "They'll kill you." She turned to the wall of bookshelves and sighed. "Here." She reached forward and let her hands slide under one of the lower shelves. "It's the Cardinal's secret cabinet; just pray Rochefort knows nothing about it." There was a small click before the panel gave way and the shelves swung open to reveal a small cupboard space. "Come on." She urged as she slid inside and felt panic claw at her insides as Athos instead slid backwards to blow out the candle before rushing into the tight space and letting the door swing closed behind him.

Barely a second passed before Rochefort came striding into the room and dismissed his guard.

Their breathing calmed as they stood chest to chest in the small space; their heads turned to peer through the sliver of a gap in the door at eye-level that allowed them to watch the Comte.

Placing his candelabra onto his desk, she felt her pulse quicken at the small plume of smoke floating from the freshly doused wick of the desk candle. It caught his attention too as he reached out to feel its temperature. Recoiling from its heat, he glanced around the dark room for any signs of an intruder.

He was stepping slowly through the room, staring into each corner and pausing at each nook to listen for any signs of life.

He approached the bookshelves in little time and Anna heard Athos mimic her as she slowed her breaths before stopping completely as he came almost eye-to-eye with them.

"Help!" The scream was distant but loud enough for them all to hear it. The shout continued as Rochefort stepped away from the shelves to face the door. "Help! The King!" He was off, running from them in a heartbeat and Anna exhaled with a slump; letting her head knock back against the panel behind her.

It was only when they'd both calmed that she realised exactly how close they were; she could feel his breath on her cheeks as their chests heaved together; brushing occasionally.

She wanted to say something, anything, that could make him understand and perhaps even forgive. Yes, she could live without him, but dammit; she didn't want to.

"Ath-"

And then he was kissing her; a hard, urgent kiss in this small space where they both fought for dominance. They'd never kissed like this before. They'd shared tender kisses like the ones back in Pinon and rushed kisses as they rode off to face god knows what, but this was definitely their first needy kiss.

She could feel it leaving them both, the tension that had been winding them tighter and tighter since she'd been arrested. With every move of his lips against hers she could finally understand why people give up their lives for just one more kiss.

Her hand was cupping the back of his head; a silent warning that if he so much as thought about breaking this then she'd use the pistol still in his right hand, and he was pushing her back into the door panel. She didn't know he'd managed to even turn them in this cupboard but she couldn't be bothered to question the logistics as his fingertips grazed the underside of her thigh; the tight leather making his touch even more teasing.

She gasped into his mouth and felt him smirk against her as he pulled her closer just by that one leg. He was still holding the pistol when one of her hands rested on his hips and pulled him as close as possible; their numerous weaponry belts stopping them from meeting where they most wanted but they didn't care.

They still hadn't parted and she could feel his fingers curl into her thigh as their need to take a breath increased but neither was willing to be the first to break it. Her other hand was braced against the wood behind him; arm straight as her fingers mirrored his and curled into the wood.

She could feel him everywhere, even where they weren't joined as they gave each other everything.

She didn't know if it was her or him who had flicked the door latch, but then they were stumbling out; her leg slipping from his hold as he instead pulled her close by her waist and still they were joined; her back now pressing against a bookshelf as he manoeuvred them out of the tiny space.

It was the realisation that they were no longer in their own tiny little world and instead in a very public room with the possibility of Rochefort returning that broke them apart. But even that was new for them; there was no sudden parting or chaste kiss afterwards to signal the end, they simply gradually slipped from each other; their mouths still so close as they gulped down air.

His eyes were scouring her face as though seeing it for the first time and her hands were curled into his biceps as she tried to set her head straight.

She wanted to make a quip, something like _'You've been holding back on me'_ but she couldn't, because it wouldn't be funny. Because it was true. Because he'd always seen her as a fragile piece of china playing at soldier instead of an actual person who can do their job without whimpering in fright.

They'd both been coy in the early days; both inexperienced and so aware that what they were doing was wrong. Paris had brought an edge to their alone time; neither wanting to simply 'be' and instead just getting on with things. And then she'd gone and when they'd seen each other those handful of times; it was rushed and quick because it had to be, because they hadn't had time. When she came back they were both different again; both wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, that they could still be tender with each other but it wasn't them anymore. They'd played at being young and bashful but they were too hardened now, it wasn't enough.

This though; with his breath still heavy even as the seconds ticked on and her heart pounding…this was who they were. They were angry and frightened and finally willing to show it.

He reached out to shut the secret door and its bang as the hidden latches slid into place seemed to wake them from their daze. He took a stumbling step backwards as she pulled at the hem of her tunic; hoping her hair wasn't messed up enough to provoke questions.

They exchanged no words as he took another step back and she slid from the shelves to the doorway; ears straining for any indication for the commotion that had broken out.

"I should go." She said finally; turning to look over her shoulder at him as he swiped something from the desk. "If there's something wrong with the King…"

"I can get back to the tunnels." He told her; answering the question in her eyes. She nodded, offered him a tight smile and slipped from the room; fingers running like a comb through her hair as she broke into a jog at the raised voices ahead.

* * *

Rochefort was crouched on the floor of the Dauphin's nursery with the King's head in his lap as he tried to hold him still against the convulsions that were wracking his body.

They'd dispatched guards to swarm the palace and a maid was rushing in with a blanket for the shivering King.

Marguerite had raised the alarm with just enough time to spare and Rochefort was happy to let the curiosity of a still-warm candle in his office slide as the next part of his plan fell into place.

"Bring me tar, water and salt! Now!" He bellowed as maids broke into runs at his order. "Courage, Sire." He whispered to the King. "Courage; I am here now."

"They have murdered me, Rochefort." He croaked, the foam that had gurgled up from inside of him still around his lips.

"What happened?" Rochefort glanced up at the breathless question as Anna skidded to a halt in the room. "I just got back and-"

"Find Dr Lemay and arrest him." He instructed.

"Dr Lemay?" She asked, stepping to the King and getting to her knees at his side. "What? Why?"

He handed her the discarded medicine bottle that had been brought to him only moments earlier. She held it gingerly and sniffed at the inside before recoiling. "Poison." She muttered. "But Dr Lemay would nev-"

"Arrest him." He repeated. "His guilt will be determined once detained." He saw a flicker of conflict in her eyes before they steeled over and she rose to her feet.

"I want Paris swarming with men." She said to the two Red Guards standing just inside the doorway. "Find the Doctor and get him in a cell." They nodded once and left the room. "You!" She called to a passing maid. "Bring more water; we'll need to flush his system until a new physician arrives."

"We will discover who is responsible for this, Sire." Rochefort promised, his eyes fixed on the blonde vision in front of him; shouting orders and gladly arresting someone who may have been a friend.

* * *

She'd sat there all night, just her in the enormous rooms of the Queen; alone on a single bench in the antechamber. She'd barely slept; too consumed with worry over if Her Majesty had reached the convent where all of this had first started.

When Anne had sat her down and recounted her story; the story of the Dauphin and the one moment of freedom the caged women had ever experienced, she'd wept. And then she'd seen the fear in Aramis' eyes yesterday and she'd wept again when they'd left.

She was so afraid. She'd tried to put on a brave face for D'Artagnan but she knew that if Athos hadn't hauled him away then he'd have seen the cracks in her mask…there was a very good chance someone would die because of this. And sat, alone, in the Queen's chambers…there was a good chance it would be her.

She'd heard the commotion that had broken out the night before, but with two guards posted at the Queen's doors she'd gotten no information at all. It was only a matter of time now before someone paid the Queen a visit and found her gone.

And that's where her anger was blooming from; she still couldn't believe they'd been betrayed by the one person that had information on every single one of them. She wanted to kick herself for not suspecting Anna but the woman was her best friend and so kind and in love so…why?

She felt her spine straighten and her chin lift as heeled footsteps approached the double doors to the rooms, but she refused to stand; not for traitors.

Sure enough, the doors were flung open within moments and the Comte de Rochefort strode in. if she closed her eyes she could still see him posed over the Queen – the woman a sobbing mess as he tried to…she swallowed down the bile at the thought of what would have happened if she'd been a minute later.

Four guards followed him into the space, led by their new deputy. Constance eyed her from the corner of her eye and felt the bile rise again. She too was straight-backed and poised, one hand on her rapier as she glanced around the emptiness.

"Where is the Queen?" Rochefort asked, stood dead centre in the antechamber after glancing into the open and empty bedroom.

She had no answer for him. She hoped the woman was at the convent but truly, she could be anywhere if the Musketeers had deemed it not safe enough.

He let out a low growl at her lack of a response and took deathly slow steps towards her.

"Where is she?" He asked again. Constance merely lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Gone."

His hand clenched immediately at the news and a pair of heeled boots crossed the room quickly at the motion.

"Don't lash out." A woman's voice that had once made Constance laugh and grin whispered.

She watched as Anna stood facing Rochefort, her eyes focusing over his shoulder as she murmured to him. Constance sneered as tension seemed to leave the Comte's body at whatever suggestion she'd whispered.

"Take her." Rochefort ordered and the two guards were at her sides instantly.

She couldn't tear her eyes from the two blondes though and the slow snaking of his hand as it pulled her closer to him. She wanted to scream. To curse them both for being traitorous scum. But it all died on her lips when he pressed a simple kiss to her forehead.

She had no fight in her when they hauled her away.

* * *

She'd arrested not just the good doctor, but also her best friend. When she'd whispered the suggestion into the shell of his ear, he'd actually felt a tingle down his spine; never had he met someone who could match him not just in wits but also ambition. He'd make her his equal in every way once all this was over.

She hadn't even batted an eyelid when the guards had manhandled the widow slightly on their way to the King's private chambers and she still showed no emotion as Constance and Lemay stood quivering at the foot of Louis' bed.

"We have found those responsible, Your Majesty, at the heart of the Queen's household."

"Th…Th…This is absurd!" Lemay cried; his face pale after being dragged from his bed late last night.

"These two were the means of executing the plot." Rochefort continued.

"He's lying, sire." Constance argued and Rochefort forced a smile down at the roll of Anna's eyes as the woman stood behind them with her guards at her back. "The Queen would never hurt you!"

"The medicine I prescribed was a mild opiate to soothe a headache!"

"With the bitter scent of poison?" Anna drawled as Lemay was handed the bottle and also recoiled at the smell.

"Someone must have interfered with the bottle." He said, twisting slightly to plead directly to her. "I would never-"

"The very fact the Queen has fled the palace is an admission of her guilt." Rochefort interrupted, as a guard stepped forward to force Lemay's attention back to him and the King. "Tell the King what you told me."

All attention turned to Marguerite as the shaking and even paler woman took a step forward.

"Constance and Lemay are intimate." She whispered. "The doctor would do anything she asked. The Queen met with them in secret."

"Marguerite?" Constance breathed in disbelief. "Marguerite, what are you saying?"

"I cannot look at them." The King's voice was barely audible as he lay, face clammy and breathing laboured, in bed. "Do what you must, only let me rest."

Rochefort nodded once to Anna who in turn gave a simple snap of her fingers. The guards were dragging the pair from the room as the King let his eyes flutter closed again, all ignoring the cries of loyalty from Lemay.

Even Marguerite left; the woman no doubt returning to the Dauphin to cry in peace; she was really starting to grate on him now.

And then there were three; a sleeping King, a smirking Anna and him – proud Rochefort with the world at his feet and a pretty woman inching closer and closer to his bed.

* * *

The sudden breakout of chaos at the palace had been the perfect cover for him to quickly slip out without being noticed by anyone. He'd made his way back through the tunnels with one hand holding their discarded lantern and the other firmly gripping a pistol as he tried to work out what had spurred him to kiss so intently in the Cardinal's cupboard.

It was the same thing that had circled his mind on the ride out of Paris and towards the convent. It was strange sense of déjà vu as he approached it; the tree line entrance still promising sanctuary but he couldn't help but notice that while the leaves had been green and full of life at their first visit; they were now brown and dying as the path became littered with them. He knew it was a metaphor, one Anna would no doubt have appreciated, but the fact that they were all but confirming the impending sense of doom growing inside of him…

"Did you find the letters?" He shook his head at Porthos' question as he, Treville and D'Artagnan approached him.

"No." He swung down from his horse. "But I think I found something better." He tried to focus on the items he'd stashed inside his jerkin but his mind kept flitting back to Anna and the simple fact that it had never been like that before.

His veins were thrumming with life every time his mind wandered back to that tight space and the way their mouths had basically warred against each other. He'd always known that she was it for him; there was and would be no one who take her place. She was his first love and his only love and he just wished he'd actually told her that.

"You don't seem too confident about it."

"It's not that." He shook away Treville's concerns and swallowed a laugh at the irony; he wasn't too confident in what he'd just found with the woman he loved – this could all go sour very quickly and he'd be dammed if his last kiss with that woman was in a cupboard. "Something happened at the palace." He told them focusing on the various shouts of _'poison'_ that had passed him as he left the palace.

"It's Constance, isn't it?"

"Constance is fine, as far as I know." He assured D'Artagnan as the four made their way into the convent. "It's the King."

That stopped any further questions as they shared a look before Treville muttered something about retrieving the Queen.

"Tell me you've not left her with Aramis." He sighed as their Captain disappeared.

"Try and keep them apart." Porthos muttered as he led them through the convent and towards a small room that they'd commandeered as Musketeers HQ.

"You must escort me back to Paris immediately." The Queen said as soon as they stepped into the room. She sat at the head of a long table with Treville at her side.

"Returning now would be unwise." He counselled.

"I will decide what is unwise!" She said firmly. "The King has been poisoned…I don't know if he is alive or dead." She swallowed as they each took a seat on the benches lining the table. "I must be ready to protect my son. No-one would dare challenge my right to rule in his name."

"Rochefort is capable of anything." Porthos reminded her as Athos ran a hand through his rain soaked hair.

"Even poisoning the King?"

"Well, maybe that was always the Spanish plan." Porthos pondered. "Get Rochefort close enough to the King to...to kill him." The Queen took a sharp intake of breath at Athos' side at his words. "And it's not like he doesn't have supporters in the palace."

"It makes no sense: if the King dies, the Queen becomes regent." D'Artagnan said. "Rochefort loses all his influence."

"Not if the Queen is blamed for her husband's death."

"He wouldn't dare!" Anne breathed.

"He has accused you of treason. Why not murder as well?" Athos asked as her eyes widened and her playing with her hands increased.

"With both the King and Queen gone, he'd be in a good position to make terms with Spain especially if he has a new ally who can provide sensitive information on them."

"I still don't understand why she did it." Anne whispered. "All these years I thought she was my friend I…she held my son before I did!" She exclaimed. "How did I not know she was working against me?"

"You must wait for more news before you act." Treville said, carefully skirting around the topic of Anna. Athos admired the man's steadfast belief in her even when all around him didn't. Athos chose to keep quiet on it; he trusted her, every inch of him trusted her…but… "Stay here, gather support, raise an army if you have to."

"Raising an army would be an act of rebellion. It could mean civil war." D'Artagnan paused, glancing at their drawn faces. "The Queen's right: she must go back."

"Is it the Queen or Constance you're really worried about?"

"At least she had the guts to stay when none of us would!" He cried. "She stayed in a traitor filled palace where she could be executed for anything Rochefort and Anna see fit!"

"Control yourself." Treville's order was calm but clear as D'Artagnan turned from him to focus on his cup.

"I will decide my own fate." The Queen said, breaking her silence. "And I must return, whatever the risk."

"With respect, that's madness. You can't be sure of your safety."

"I know that." She smiled at Aramis and his ever-present concern. "But if the King lives, he will need me by him. And if he dies...my duty is clear. I owe it to my son. And to France."

They fell silent at her words; each man mulling them over until they came to a clear acceptance that she was going to return. Now they needed to figure out how to keep her safe when she got there.

"Vargas is the only man alive who can identify Rochefort for who he really is."

"What use is that? He won't just hand himself in."

"But he might come if he thought his entire scheme was about to be exposed." Athos reached inside his jerkin and produced a letter and stamp. "The seal of the Comte de Rochefort." He told them, holding the stamp up to show them the mage on its base. "We write in his hand, asking Vargas for help."

"Vargas must know his hand." Aramis said as Treville inspected the seal. "Seal or no seal, he'll see the letter's a forgery."

"We can copy his style."

"I'm no forger." D'Artagnan told their Captain.

"No, nor me." Porthos agreed.

"I am." They all turned at the unexpected voice. "I have been copying the ancient texts of the Holy Fathers for many years." The young nun at the doorway stepped forward. "I have developed some skill at duplicating the original hand…though it is a sin to boast."

Porthos chuckled at the blush that rose up to her cheeks as Treville turned back to the letter and sighed; his back shifting as he straightened and immediately became Captain Treville.

"Vargas has never trusted anyone in his life. He'll be expecting an ambush."

"Not if there's only one man waiting for him."

* * *

She knew there hadn't been a mistake. Knew it from the second Rochefort had willingly handed the bottle over to her to confirm the poison. Only someone working very hard to maintain an image of innocence was as forthcoming as he'd been.

And that's why she was sat, staring at the bottle, right now.

The symptoms weren't unusual; convulsions, foaming at the mouth and then an immediate exhaustion, and that's what was making it hard to narrow down.

It had to resemble Lemay's medicine, she reminded herself, and that narrowed down her options considerably; a water-like, clear solution. It also had to have that pungent aroma.

Bottle wrapped securely in the palm of her hand, she was up and out of her chair in an instant and heading to the kitchens for a little bit of experimentation.

After all, someone who'd successfully drugged the King of Spain for months was definitely the one who should be properly investigating this.

* * *

As she let the ink glide effortlessly into the final swirl of Rochefort's signature pompous 'R', the nun dipped her quill back into her inkpot and looked hopefully up at Athos as he studied her work. He held the original and the forgery side-by-side as Treville entered the small room and the pair compared them.

"Sister, I could kiss you." Treville drawled, letting his lips curve into a lazy smile at the faint tinge of pink reappeared on her cheeks at the compliment.

"Best not, perhaps." She smiled, lifting the small spoon of hard wax over a flame and letting it melt.

Athos gave the note a final glance before folding it and placing it down for her to pour the melted wax into a neat blob. He lifted the stamp and with the practice only a former Comte could have, imprinted the image into it.

He lifted the letter and with a final nod of thanks to the woman, made his way out into the courtyard. He handed it to Porthos with a final order of; "Don't be reckless." To which the man simply grinned before pulling him into an embrace.

"Your Majesty, I will beg you one more time." Treville began as he intercepted Anne. "At least stay until we have Vargas."

"It is impossible." She told him, heading straight for Porthos as he broke his embrace with Aramis and mounted his waiting horse. "I know the danger, Captain, but I must go." She stopped at Porthos' side. "Godspeed, Porthos." She lifted her hand for him to press a kiss to it and gave him an affectionate smile as he complied.

"Your Majesty." He nodded to her once before pressing his heels into the horse and spurring it into a light trot. They watched as he took a breath and the disappeared from view; their only hopes of displacing Rochefort in his pocket.

* * *

Constance Bonacieux never, in a million years, thought she would ever end up in a prison cell. Let alone be there on charges of treason and attempted murder. And even if she had imagined being here, she definitely hadn't predicted who would be the one locking her away down here.

She hadn't even visited. They'd been down here for hours and she was nowhere in sight. Anna Beauchamp had been more than happy to whisper the idea to Rochefort in between their sweet-nothings and then snap her fingers in condemnation in front of the King, but to actually come down here and face her; face them…she was very happily absent. Coward.

They'd been through so much together that it made more than her heart ache at the fact that she'd put her down here on false charges. She'd given her a home when she most needed one: twice! They'd laughed and gossiped and stared down whoever the Musketeers were pursuing that week and then she'd turned on her and arrested her and lied about her.

There was one person in this world who knew Constance inside and out and it wasn't the man she'd blindly married when he'd offered her a way out of the life she'd been dealt, and it wasn't the man she loved more than life itself – the one who had turned her world completely upside down and she loved him for it.

It was Anna.

The laughing blonde with a sharp tongue that was quick to get a deal at the market but curiously slow to appear around her love. Constance had never pushed her on it though; had always respected that sometimes things were too personal to talk about. But maybe she should have pushed, maybe she should have learnt more about her to not get into this exact situation.

Anna knew all about her; her rocky upbringing and the lifeline of Bonacieux. Knew about how ostracised she'd felt after their marriage, knew that she'd struggled to fit into the mould expected of her. Knew how Bonacieux had used to fly into rages when his wife continued to not fall pregnant, and knew exactly how to stem her tears after walking in on one and silencing the man with a promise of matching every hand he laid upon his wife with a much harder one of her own.

But she knew little in return. D'Artagnan had mentioned something about a Comte after their return from Pinon but she'd had no chance to question him further. She knew that she met Athos after her mother was hired as his brother's governess and she knew that they'd fallen in love and fallen in bed and he'd done nothing to put a ring on her finger in the years since. But she didn't seem bothered about that either; always cagey when asked about their future as though she deemed herself unworthy of one.

She had so many questions, not just about who the woman actually was but why she'd chosen to throw each and every person she loved to the dogs?

"What have I done to deserve this, Constance?" She looked away from the pit of despair that seemed to be forming at her feet and across to Lemay where he sat curled into a ball in the opposite cell. "I swear I have never in my life made a mistake prescribing remedies." He insisted as her eyes fought to look past the cuts and bruises left after his Red Guard interrogation.

"Someone tampered with the medicine." She said, her own body feeling like lead as she leant against her bars. She was glad, at least, that she hadn't been summoned for questioning and could therefore still stand.

"But Lady Marguerite and Anna..." He began, his voice desperate. "…why would they say such things of us? Why has Anna turned on us?"

She had no reason. She'd wracked her brains for one as she tried to block out Lemay's screams. She didn't even have the energy to shrug as the door leading down into the palace creaked open. Her eyes slid from Lemay to the appearing visitors and felt herself deflate further as boots she had come to know as Rochefort appeared.

He descended the steps with a sneer; his ornate inky black cloak shimmering with shades of purple in the candle light. Constance stood straighter as he reached the bottom, determined to put on a good face despite the rolling of her stomach as he turned and held out a hand to the woman close behind him.

She was wearing a similar cloak; the inky material skimming the backs of her knees as she moved. They both turned to face her cell; the dim fire light illuminating the subtle threads of molten red that ran through Anna's cloak. She was the devil incarnate; her red tunic and glowing cape coupled with her dead eyes was enough to make anyone shake in their boots.

She took a single step back as Rochefort leant close to her bars and focused on her.

"My proposition is simple: testify against Aramis and the Queen and you live." She forced her shoulders to still at his words; not a tremor of fear would be shown to him. "I had a feeling you might prove stubborn."

Anna moved from his side as his eyes remained on her. Constance tore her gaze from Rochefort and to the cell opposite where Lemay was letting out a soft whimper at the sight of the new Anna. A key was handed to the blonde without her having to ask for it and she unlocked the doctors cell before stepping back for two guards to haul him up and out of it.

"You have been found guilty of the attempted assassination of the King, the penalty for which is death." Rochefort spoke again; his voice louder as he smirked at Constance before turning to the doctor. "May God have mercy on your soul."

"Impossible." Lemay protested as Constance felt her head start to spin. "I have done nothing wrong. This is not justice!"

"You can't do this!" She cried, hands gripping the bars in front of her as Rochefort strolled back up the steps with Lemay being dragged behind him. "He's innocent!"

"Bring her too." Rochefort called over his shoulder and it was then Constance noted the paleness of Anna's face and the sheer width of her eyes. The woman was gripping the cell keys as Lemay was forced behind Rochefort.

"I've had no trial, no chance to defend myself!" He continued, his shouts going fainter as he moved further up.

A guard stepped forward to release Constance as she sprung back, further into the cell in a pointless attempt to get away from him.

"Leave us." Anna said, her voice catching slightly. "I said; leave us!" The man flinched but stepped back. "I'll bring her myself." She stepped forward as he moved back and she slid the rusty key into the large lock. The door swung open as it clicked and Anna stepped inside the dank cell.

She was forcing Constance's arms around her back before she the brunette had even had a chance to realise what was happening and then Constance was also being marched out of the dungeons and up, into the sunlight.

"No!" Lemay's cries were clear again as she stepped out into the small courtyard that held only a raised wooden platform. Her eyes fixed on the dried blood coating the wooden slats as the sounds of Lemay being forced to his knees filled the air.

Anna's hands were trembling slightly as she held Constance and the woman hoped that she was finally feeling some remorse for this; hoped she still had enough of a conscience to know this was wrong; that she was going to hell for her part in this.

Small hands were replaced with large as he was handed over to Rochefort who deemed her wrist binding enough and instead chose to restrain her face. Hands on both temples, he forced her gaze towards Lemay.

"Before his blood dries, you will be next." He told her, increasing his hold as she fought against him.

"This is murder!" She cried as the executioner lifted his sword.

"I have done nothing wrong." Lemay promised; his eyes on her as he spoke. "I hope you-" His words died as his arms were pulled backwards and his neck strained.

The sword swung without hesitation.

Her sobs turned into chokes as blood splattered the platform and Lemay's wide, terrified eyes fell from her view. Rochefort's hold only gave when her knees buckled and he stepped away as she sank to the ground; her mind replaying the severing of her friend's head from his body with every heartbeat.

"Your turn." She could barely move as Rochefort lowered himself into her eye line. "But I'll give you one last chance to save yourself; you have until dawn tomorrow to consider your position."

His words meant nothing to her. Lemay was dead. that was all she could think about. He was dead; murdered, and her friend, her best friend had helped.

Rochefort murmured something as he rocked backwards onto his heels and stood. She thought she'd heard him mutter a compliment; a simple _'you did well'_ to the woman who was now his right hand…or left eye, even.

It made her sicker; the thought that Anna had _done well_ at an execution. She wanted to vomit and scream and then there was an urge that Constance Bonacieux had never before experienced; she wanted to kill them all.

* * *

Getting back to Paris had been easy; it was getting through Paris that had been the hardest part of getting the Queen back into the palace without Rochefort or anyone in a Red Guard uniform knowing.

They'd managed to get this far; to the gates of the palace without any trouble but now, with them all crouching in the shadows waiting for a bribed maid to return with a note, Athos wished they'd had more time to plan this.

He also wished that they'd had more than one scrap of paper between them when they'd arrived. He was nervous enough about this escapade without having to place all of his trust in a note to the Dauphin's governess. He wanted to get something to Anna too; perhaps she could've cleared the way a little for them but Aramis had whispered a reminder of his connection to the governess and Athos was in no position to suddenly vouch for their believed traitor of a friend.

"Marguerite's replied to our note." D'Artagnan told them, creeping back from the palace gates with another piece of paper.

"What news of the King?" Anne asked as Treville scanned its contents.

"She doesn't say, exactly." He told her, re-reading the ink. "But he must be recovering: she's arranged a private audience and will lead you to him."

"We should wait for confirmation that the King is safe." Athos said, his trust in the woman's ability to arrange a private audience without Rochefort finding out, a little lacking.

"My husband is alive. Marguerite would not lie about that." Anne said. "We must do as she says. This might be our only chance."

The four men nodded once before following her to a side door in the gate house. It was a good plan, a great plan even; to let the governess sneak the Queen back in. No one would think twice about her returning to the Queen's room under the guise of collecting some of the Dauphin's things but…something was nagging at him. This had happened far too quickly for his liking.

But then they were in the palace and he had no chance to stop them and scope the area as Marguerite appeared on the landing of the marble staircase.

"Marguerite." The Queen smiled upon seeing the woman. "Tell me, how is the Dauphin?"

"Majesty, come this way." He frowned at her avoidance of the question as she curtseyed and led them onwards up the steps.

She looked ill too. He'd spotted the black circles under eyes from the bottom of the steps and up close? Well, he'd seen healthier corpses.

But the Queen trusted her and was following behind her without question as they tagged along behind.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Aramis asked from Marguerite's side and her responding swallow had Athos reaching for his pistol immediately.

"Please, we only have a few moments." She gave them all a strained smile as they reached another landing and she ushered them down it. "This way." Athos noted that D'Artagnan and Treville were clearly having the same concerns as he as they were immediately behind the Queen. "Run!" His steps halted immediately at the governess' whisper. "For God's sake, save yourself!" His head turned slowly to the woman as she tried to stop Aramis from following them all. "Run!"

"Put down your weapons!" He exchanged a look with Aramis as the shout reached them.

The governess was pushed away in an instant as the two men broke out into a run down the corridor and around the corner into the meeting room where Treville and D'Artagnan stood at gunpoint, their rapiers in hand as the Queen was surrounded by Red Guards.

His eyes found hers immediately as she nodded once, very subtly to do as Rochefort said. He held Anna's eyes as he seated the sword and heard the others copy. He blinked once; a slow warning that no matter what game she was playing, if this ended in bloodshed he could do nothing to protect anyone. The quick breaking of eye contact on her part told him all he needed; she knew and she was still willing to play along.

"Where is the King?" Anne demanded as she pushed through the guards to face Rochefort and Anna. "Take me to him."

"First, you must answer to the charge of his attempted assassination."

"It's absurd!" Aramis was held back as a dozen pistols cocked in his direction. "The Queen wasn't even in the palace." He reminded them.

"Her household has proved a den of assassins." Rochefort said. "Her key accomplice, Dr Lemay, lost his head and the Bonacieux woman will be executed for her part in the conspiracy tomorrow."

"It's a lie." The pistols shifted to D'Artagnan as the Queen covered her mouth with a shaking hand. "Constance is innocent."

"Confine the Queen to her quarters." Rochefort instructed as Anna nodded to a group of guards at the Queen's back. "Securely this time."

"You will not succeed in this, Rochefort!" She cried. "The King will see what you are!"

"A murderous plot against him, planned by his unfaithful, deceitful wife." He smirked. "He has no choice but to condemn you."

"You have no evidence. It will be my word against yours."

"Oh..." He took a step closer to her. "…It will be a little more than that. You did know your son's governess was sleeping with your musketeer too?"

Athos wanted to groan as her head snapped to Aramis; her eyes full of hurt and deceit as he refused to meet her gaze. That itself was essentially a confession and he guessed what was coming next.

"And she's not the only one willing to testify to your character and conduct." He reached behind him and they watched as a soft hand slipped into his. "There are others who have been privy to your secrets for much longer."

"How could you?" The Queen whispered as Anna stepped beside Rochefort; her hand still in his palm. "How could you lie?" She asked again. "Let me see my son."

"Hardly appropriate." Anne took a step back at the coldness in her eyes and the traces of a sneer on her lips.

"The King will very soon know the depths of your disgrace." Rochefort continued as he dropped Anna's hand, allowing her to step around him and face the assembled Musketeers as he delivered his final blow. "Arrest the musketeer Aramis on a charge of high treason."

"What?!"

They struggled against the wall of Red Guards to no avail as Aramis was pulled forward and the Queen escorted from the room; her own struggles to turn back to them in vain.

"These are the King's orders. Will you defy them?" Rochefort shouted over the din as Aramis was left to stumble into the small clearing at Anna's feet. He righted himself and Athos could only watch as he stared in disbelief at the woman he had once called a sister.

Rochefort joined them and Athos strained to hear what was murmured to Aramis, but could only watch as his brother's shoulders dropped and he followed Anna, without a fight, through the opposite doors and out of view.

"Get to Constance while you still can." That's all he could say. There was nothing else he could add to the situation as Treville forced them from the room; any further protestations would be pointless.

The boy was off, running through the palace, in an instant. Athos watched him go as every step away from that room, from their friend, felt like a dagger in his heart.

She'd known. She'd known he was going to be arrested and she'd done nothing; not to stop it or even prepare them. They could have kept him away or…done **something**.

The ring in his coin purse felt like a lead weight as the leather swung from his belt. He couldn't stop the feeling of having been played. Had she lied to him? Was she truly Rochefort's now?

The steady hand of Treville on his shoulder was doing little to quell the rage in his veins and he knew that even if she was true, even if all of this was just leading to a bigger picture; this was only the beginning of what was to come.

* * *

"D'Artagnan!"

"Stop him." Anna called out lazily as she reached the top of the dungeon steps.

Two Red Guards ran forward as the Musketeer raced across the executioner's courtyard and towards the tiny barred window that looked down into Constance's cell.

She leant against the brickwork and watched as he met them in a flurry of fists that left both guards on the floor as he slid to his knees at the bars and gripped Constance's outstretched hands.

"I'll get you out of here, I swear it." He told her as Anna pushed off the stone and strode to them. "I won't let them hurt you."

"I'm not afraid." She said as Anna clicked behind her and a fresh wave of men ran forward to pry his from the bars. "I love you."

"Never give up hope." He cried as they pulled him away and pushed him to the floor. They pounded him into the dust with well-placed punches and knees on his gut until she came to a stop at his side.

"That's enough." They stood. "Get him out of here." She turned from him as they grabbed his arms and dragged him back to the entrance; Aramis' shouts echoing up to them from his cell below.

"Never give up hope." She mused, dropping into a crouch in front of Constance's bars, effectively blocking her view of D'Artagnan as he was tossed out. "A lovely parting sentiment."

"You're going to pay for this." She told her, the lines of her face set in steel as she glared through the bars.

"Undoubtedly." She forced a smile. "But that's a problem for another day." She reached inside her sleeve and pulled out a square of cloth. "Dry your eyes, Constance." She held it out to her. "The fun's only just beginning."

She forced the cloth into her hand, curled her palm round it and pushed her arms back through the bars.

"You're a traitor and liar and when you're eventually found out, know that no one will weep for you."

The smile faded from Anna's face as Constance glared at her but kept the cloth; her fist tightening around it as she fumed.

"You're right." She whispered. "And someday, all that I am and all I have done will be discovered." She forced a smile back onto her features. "But today is not that day…perhaps tomorrow will be."

* * *

She'd started crying as soon as Anna's heels disappeared from view. Slumping from the window and the small stone jutting from the wall that she'd been able to balance on to get a better view through the raised window, she curled into a ball.

Aramis was down here too. She'd heard him spitting curses at Anna as the woman had brought him down here and judging by the jangling of chains coming from next door, he was far more restricted than she.

She opened her hand as tears ran down her cheeks and glared at the square of white cloth that had been forced into her grasp. She watched with a frown as it unfurled in her flat palm to reveal an inked outline of something.

She flattened it out and felt the vice that had been slowly tightening around her heart ease open slightly.

She clutched the cloth to her chest and wept harder as she mouthed the words Anna had scrawled under her drawing of a fleur-de-lis.

Un pour tous, et tous pour un.


	11. Trial and Punishment

**A.N. VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE - PLEASE READ**

 **Welcome to the final chapter of this story. I can't begin to say how grateful I am to all of the support my readers have given me; from the reviews to the simple click of a follow button.**

 **I'm going to get a bit mushy now, so bear with me because there's something important coming at the end of this note. Firstly, to Books-and-Cleverness-394, I'd like to apologise for never getting back to your message but I'm going to say right here, right now that I am going to get back to you with something far lengthier than this because your word meant a hell of a lot to me. Secondly, Jay Legion, I'm sorry I lied and said this chapter would be ready and posted by July (though at the time I did plan for that deadline). So this one is for you two; for writing such beautiful words in private messages and for never failing to review every update - you guys make this all worthwhile.**

 **Right, onto the 'important' stuff. I won't be writing Season 3. I just don't have the time to sit and plan each episode and then spend 20+ hours writing out each one. I have some ideas and the plan is to scribble some stuff down in my spare time and someday post them all. Trust me when I say that the story doesn't end here. SO, for anyone who has followed this series since Chapter 1 of LMF way back in 2014, please just give this story or myself a quick follow for a notification of future updates. When I do get around to writing/posting Series 3, I'll add another chapter to this story as a sort of notification with the title and information.**

 **So there we have it; series 2 done. I hope you guys like it and just so you know, a review always makes my day even if it's just three words.**

 **Thanks for the memories guys - it's been a hell of a ride.**

 **MissPiggy97 xxx**

* * *

As her eyes began to flutter open a lazy grin stretched out over her lips. It was perfection; the gauzy curtains were blowing in a light breeze as sunlight began to fill the room and the pillow under her cheek was the softest she'd ever slept upon. She'd slept like a new-born babe last night and the irony of her experiencing her most restful night in years on the eve of her best friend's execution, wasn't lost on her.

… _She's gone; the one who was happy to lay awake for you…_

She blew out a breath and turned onto her back, her eyes fixing on the ceiling above as the words she had said last night repeated over and over in her mind. She probably shouldn't have been as blunt about it, she mused. Perhaps she should have eased him into it a little more rather than just trying to explain it all in the relatively short time it takes to get from one end of the palace's tunnels to the other.

Maybe getting it all off her chest had been good though. She realised now just how exhausted she'd been at playing the role of someone she wasn't, someone she hasn't been for a long time.

… _I tried to be this person who you could remember; someone still a little bit frail..._

She winced as memories of sweet little Anna started to swim in her mind. God, why had she done it to herself? Why had she denied herself so much? Blaming Athos wasn't even an option; he hadn't asked for her to be his dutiful little maid but she'd all but insisted after he'd seemed so shocked at her brazenness when she'd first arrived back in Paris.

 _You were always going to join him. That was the plan; you were always going to make him think he'd turned you…to get close enough._

She pushed the covers off her as Athos' voice began to mingle with her own. She wasn't going to lay here lamenting her actions when not twelve hours earlier she'd vowed to not let him consume her thoughts anymore.

The plan had gone off almost without a hitch; Rochefort believed her intentions matched his and assumed she knew nothing about who he was actually working for, though she doubted Vargas would be so enthusiastic about his methods.

The attempted rape of the Queen and poisoning of the King were the exceptions though; she hadn't seen them coming and wasn't going to forgive herself for Lemay's death anytime soon. She should have been thinking two steps ahead like she had been since Rochefort gunned down Alvaraz on that hillside. But she'd let herself become distracted; worried too much about how the Musketeers were going to react and had planted that dammed note to try and clear her name before they strung her up for treason. The very thing she'd promised to not do had gotten an innocent man killed.

Her fingers ghosted over the ruby red of her uniform tunic at the thought and let her fists ball in the material.

She would **not** let Constance follow him to the grave. She just hoped that the Musketeers had a plan, because otherwise, she was going to have to blow her cover completely and all but throw herself fin front of the executioner's blade.

* * *

She'd expected her last night on this Earth to be long and drawn out as she was forced to sit in her dingy cell, waiting for dawn to break and her fate to be sealed…but it hadn't been. In fact, it had gone quite fast and that made it all the more worse.

Aramis had filled the hours for her, keeping her mind as free of the looming sentence as possible when they were both sat in their cells; it had started with the clanging of chains as she imagined him pacing his own cell before an almighty shout had left the man and his fists had pounded against the stone imprisoning them. When he'd calmed down they'd spoken to each other – the one benefit of being the only two prisoners in the dungeons was that they hadn't had to limit themselves to whispers.

She'd told him about the cloth and the scribble words and Aramis had simply laughed; his feelings of betrayal clear.

" _You must be her weak spot then Constance, because she didn't seem very much in the 'all for one' mood when she arrested me and dragged me down here."_

She hadn't been able to argue with him on that one and then they'd fallen into a short silence as they contemplated their fates.

" _Is my son safe?"_ The question had almost broken her. _"Constance, have you seen him? Is he safe?"_

She'd lied. Of course, she'd lied. She'd promised that when she'd last seen him he was happy and gurgling and that the King wouldn't let anything happen to him, regardless of Rochefort. She'd promised him that the King would choose to keep face and the worst-case scenario would be that the boy would be sent to some estate and educated and left to live his life.

She'd sworn that the King was a good man…even though she had no proof.

And then they'd talked about love; all of it. She'd told him how she'd struggled with Bonacieux's death and how she felt she was betraying his memory to love so easily when he was barely cold in the ground. He'd told her about Anne and how even the smallest of her smiles made him feel warm, how even though he knew there was no future, he loved her and what she stood for.

She told him how she'd longed for a baby for so long but was now glad she didn't have to leave one behind; how having to watch D'Artagnan being dragged away from her yesterday was more than enough for her to endure. He'd told her about Porthos and how he wished he'd never kept this secret from him, from any of them, maybe then they'd have been better prepared.

She told him that Lemay had offered her a fresh start and that she would always love the good doctor for his pure heart and modern mindset. He'd said that his only regret was not saying goodbye to his brothers – how he wished they could all share one last drink and laugh before he was executed.

And then they'd both admitted that despite it all, they loved Her too; the one that had betrayed them the most. Constance had clutched that cloth to her chest and told him how she wanted desperately to believe her but struggled to. Aramis had sighed and said that all he could picture was a woman who had fitted so neatly under his arm as he teased her.

" _Did she say nothing to you?"_ She'd asked, bordering on desperate as the strip of sky visible from her cell began to lighten. _"Offer a whisper of hope?"_

There had been a pause before he'd replied. A pause that had sparked the tiniest flame of hope. _"No."_ Her hands had been like ice against her skin as she held her head in her hands.

And then dawn had broken; the colours so beautiful even as she blinked through blurry, sleep-deprived eyes. She was glad today was beautiful; that her last sight of this world wouldn't be blurred by fog or rain, only by Rochefort as the man stood stoically on the balcony overlooking the executioner's stage.

Treville was with him, the man a picture of regret as he watched her stumble out into the sunshine and she was glad; glad that at least one friendly face would be here to tell D'Artagnan that she went in peace, that she didn't cry and faced death head on. For she refused to bring any semblance of joy to Rochefort as he took yet another step closer to the throne.

And then her eyes rested on the figure at the bottom of the balcony's steps and she fought a snarl. Anna was as stoic as Rochefort; hand on rapier hilt as she waited for the morning's big event to be over with. She wondered now if that cloth had been a dream; if she'd conjured the words in an attempt to bring herself some comfort in her final hours, for she knew this Anna would not be saving her today.

She reached the stage quickly; time passing her swiftly again and refusing her last request of being able to take it all in; to breath full lung-fulls of air and stare head on into the sun above.

There were too many people here for her liking; too many people wearing masks and waiting for her to die. She'd never imagined that her last steps would be such a spectacle; that she, a lowly woman who'd never thought she'd near the palace let alone be close enough to its inhabitants to be embroiled in their doings.

A blindfold was offered to her and she shook her head, hands still clasping her skirts to keep the soft blues and white from muddying any further. She would see this; she would look Rochefort in the eye and hope the sight haunted him for all eternity.

No one offered her a hand as she reached the centre of the platform; no one stood near enough to help as she lifted her skirts and lowered herself to her knees trying in vain to ignore the red stains on the wood; the red that yesterday had been flowing inside Lemay.

One hand on her neck, fingers touching the raised outline of the fleur-de-lis that hung there, she made let her mind float to the one thing that could steady her in these last minutes. D'Artagnan's face filled her mind and she held back a sob at the thought of all they could have done together if they had more time. She wished dearly they hadn't wasted so long hiding their love or even arguing over it. She wished she could hold him one more time and tell him that she loved him, that it was only him and would only ever be him.

She didn't need to see Rochefort to know he was nodding to the executioner; she could already feel the sword lingering a hair away from her neck. She had stared down the barrel of a gun and run through explosions but this; this heavy weight that wasn't even yet upon her; this was how she would say goodbye.

She took a breath and looked down; exposing her neck more in an attempt to give him a cleaner cut – to get this over with in one blow and not force her to linger between life and death as they hacked away at her. She wanted to cry as her imagination tricked her in a final cruel gift from the Lord above; for her love was staring up at her from between the gaps in the wood, a promise in his eyes but she knew he wasn't real; knew that he wasn't here.

The guns had knocked all air from her throat and then she was gasping for it as she watched, from the corner of her eye, the executioner fall; his sword still in hand.

"Musketeers!"

And then she was sobbing. Sobbing as D'Artagnan moved and reappeared beside the platform. Sobbed as she realised he was real and this was real and she wasn't going to die here.

Everything was a flurry of movement then; Red Guards fell and bullets pinged off their armour but still she sobbed. She heard Rochefort and Treville battling on the balcony as the blonde man fought desperately to get down into the courtyard.

"Close the gate!" Anna's voice was surprised as she shouted orders. Constance was glad, glad that she hadn't foreseen this; glad that they'd gotten one over them again. "Guards!"

More gunshots and then D'Artagnan was in front of her, the soft leather of his gloves cupping her face as she threw her arms around him.

The masked men jumped into action next; their faces revealed to be those of the people she loved dearly. Athos was swift as he disposed of two guards before hoisting himself up onto the horse she'd assumed was waiting to carry her dead body away. She didn't know where the other steed came from but in seconds she was letting D'Artagnan pull her onto it, her arms clasping around his waist as he both manoeuvred the beast and fired at their assailants.

"Athos!" D'Artagnan and Athos were still firing at Red Guards as the Musketeer Lieutenant neared the balcony and Treville leapt from the wooden frame onto the horse with an ease that a man of his age shouldn't have.

She flinched as the courtyard gates burst open in a blaze of fire but as the smoke from the explosion started to settle, she threw Rochefort one victorious look as the horses bolted through the open gates and into the safety of Paris.

* * *

The Bonacieux house had stood empty since she'd put her husband in the ground but it had been much longer since she herself had set foot in here. It was cold and dusty and there was a smell that made her nose wrinkle but underneath it all, it was still home.

She couldn't stop letting her hands linger on things; the small notch missing from the bedroom door that made the whole thing rattle when winter winds got into the house, the creak of her dresser as she opened its doors and the plain, dark clothes that had symbolised her life in those years before Anna had returned a bolt of dropped fabric and that night insisted Madame Bonacieux have a dress made in the light colour.

"We should just end this now." D'Artagnan's voice flitted up the few steps separating the kitchen rom the home's main bedroom. "One shot is all I'll need."

"Killing Rochefort would solve nothing." Treville chimed in as she forced herself from the seat she'd taken on her mattress and smoothed out the dress he'd changed into; the muddy blue and white gown having turned her stomach every time she caught sight of it.

"You've seen what he's capable of." D'Artagnan insisted. "And Aramis is not just at his mercy; we have no idea what things his new Lieutenant can do."

"Aramis is a prisoner of the crown; if he's to stand up in court he'll be left alone." Athos' voice mingled with theirs and Constance let out a sigh; she could only imagine what the steely man was feeling about this whole situation. She and Bonacieux hadn't been on the best of terms but his death had still left her grieving, to be betrayed by the one you love must be even worse. "Besides, he's a Musketeer; he can handle himself."

"None of us are Musketeers now." She moved from the bedroom and down into the kitchen the small fire burning in the forgotten hearth doing little to warm the home. "We're outlaws. If they find us, they'll shoot on sight."

"It's not the man we have to destroy. It's his lies." She said, appearing from the doorway. She forced a smile as D'Artagnan jumped up to hand her a bowl of stew; the murky liquid likely some battlefield recipe consisting of whatever preserved foods were still here.

"You want to let him live? The man was seconds away from killing you!"

"I know." She sighed, taking the lone stool in front of the fire. "But kill him now and the King might not ever discover the truth: Aramis and the Queen would still be in mortal danger based on his accusations alone."

"We need to trust that Anna knows what she's doing."

"You still believe her?" D'Artagnan asked, his eyes blazing as they settled on Treville. "She was willing to let Constance die this morning!"

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you!" He seethed, one hand on his beloved's shoulder. "Even if she did have a plan to stop it she didn't leave much time to enact it, did she? We have no actual proof she's on our side."

"Everything depends upon getting Vargas to the King." Athos said, effectively cutting across D'Artagnan. "He is the only one who can discredit Rochefort's claims and clear Anna's name…" He shared a look with D'Artagnan. "…or confirm her betrayal."

"And if Porthos fails to capture him, hmm? Or he refuses to speak? What then?" D'Artagnan continued forcing a sigh from Constance; she understood his desire for justice but she was with Athos on this one – they needed to do this properly or they'd all lose their heads. "And what about Aramis? Milady is the **only** one who can still get into the palace: we have to trust her, of all people, to help him."

Constance watched as Athos' shoulders sagged at D'Artagnan's words and she was relieved that despite his belief in Anna, he still refused to trust Milady.

"Get some rest." He told them, choosing to move the conversation on and not linger on who they could or couldn't trust. "We leave to help Porthos as soon as night falls."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not." He stopped at the doorway, meeting her eyes as she watched him over her shoulder.

"Rochefort murdered Lemay in front of my eyes. Anna dragged me from the Queen's rooms and locked me in a cell. They both watched me walk onto that platform." She reminded him, turning to face him full on. "They're my enemies as much as anybody's: I want the truth and I want to be there when it's revealed."

She rolled her eyes as the Lieutenant flicked his eyes to D'Artagnan, a clear message of _'it's your call'_.

"Very well." D'Artagnan agreed. "But when the time comes, Rochefort's mine."

"When the time comes; Rochefort has an enemy who's been working much harder for much longer to take him down." All eyes turned to Treville as he pushed off the fireplace. "Regardless of what he did to you…" He turned to face her. "…I wouldn't get in her way."

* * *

Her head hit the wall with a gut-wrenching thud as her hands fought to gain some leverage over the one slowly crushing her airway. Her fingernails were of no use against the soft but thick leather of the glove at her throat and all she could do was choke out an incoherent string of words.

"I...I…"

"Did. You. Know." The question had stopped being a question some time ago, right around the time she refused to meet his eyes. "I will not ask again."

"N…No…" She choked out. "Of course…not."

The hand loosened slightly and she took a deep gasp for air as Rochefort continued to glare at her, their faces mere inches apart.

"I would have shot her…in the cells…if I'd known." She told him. "You know that." She met his stare and with a reluctant sigh he let her go completely.

Her own hands came up to her throat as he stepped away and she let them linger there as she took deep breaths of air. She could feel his eyes still on her as she steadied herself and her mind worked quickly to come up with some cover that would appease him.

She hadn't lied to him – she truly hadn't known that the Musketeers would stage a rescue of Constance. She'd guessed they would, hoped they would. But she hadn't _known_.

"If I'd wanted her free, don't you think I would have done it myself?" She asked him. "If I wanted her free, I would have done it far more subtlety than blowing up the damned courtyard gates!"

"Forgive me for not fully believing you." He drawled, pulling his gloves from his hands.

"You're not convinced that I'm on your side?" She asked, straightening from the crouch she'd fallen into as he released her. "Still?" She took a step closer to him.

"I'm not convinced that your heart is fully in this." He corrected. "That you don't still have some foolish loyalty to them."

"I suggested Constance's arrest." She reminded him, closing the gap between them. "I personally chained Aramis to a wall in the dirtiest cell I could find. I had D'Artagnan dragged kicking and screaming from the palace as his beloved sobbed." Her hands slid up the front of his jerkin and came to a rest on his chest. "And I've handpicked their executioners." She leant in. "How much more convincing do you need?"

"And the Musketeer Athos?" She blew out a sigh at his question. "How loyal are you to him?"

Truthfully, she didn't know. She'd hoped that she'd convinced him but the look in his eyes as Aramis had been dragged away told her otherwise. She didn't blame him. Didn't blame any of them really. She'd known this would be a dangerous, and perhaps deadly, game to play when she'd started and now she was too far in to waste any more time on reasoning with them.

And so, she did what she knew she'd have to do to placate Rochefort for hopefully the last time: she closed the gap and pressed her lips to his and tried to forget exactly who he was and what he planned.

* * *

It was torture. Absolute torture. To be so close to her son to be able to hear his cries but so far away that she could nothing to soothe him, was tearing her heart apart. She had no doubt that the leaving open of doors to ensure the Dauphin's sobs could be heard through the many corridors that separated her from her husband, was Rochefort's idea…and she hated him for it more than she hated him for trying to force himself upon her.

The palace was otherwise deathly silent. It was completely devoid of members of the court and only the King's council was present in the huge building, though they were nowhere near her. Even the guards were sporadic, with none stationed directly within her wing leaving her free to bang her fists against the locked doors of her suite and scream herself hoarse without anyone knowing.

Her window was her only source of solace; it's views allowed her to forget that she was a prisoner in her own home by a man she had once trusted more than any. It had also elicited her first true smile in hours when a fleet of Red Guards had flooded through the gardens coming from all areas of the palace to converge on the furthermost courtyard from her rooms following a blast that though loud in sound had merely made her chandelier rock slightly.

She was her window now, trying to lose herself in lush greens and not let the Dauphin's increasing cries split her already fragile heart further, when her door unlocked.

She didn't need to turn to know who would be entering; the same five women had brought her food every few hours since the locked had first clicked into place yesterday and she was sick of them; four were women of the court, people she had chosen to trust long ago but who now, under the orders of the Comte de Rochefort, were her jailers. And the fifth was a maid, here only to ensure the women weren't too burdened with the task of bringing her food. Poor them.

But today there was an additional set of footsteps; that was new. She turned and at the first glimpse of a black skirt she now associated with the devil himself simply said:

"I want to see my son."

"We are taking care of him, Majesty." Anne's eyes fixed on the key in Marguerites hands as the woman rose from her curtsey without instruction. The governess-turned-toy for Rochefort nodded to the women behind her and Anne rolled her eyes as tray after tray of food was deposited onto her table.

"What riches has Rochefort promised you?" She asked, taking in the sallow skin and dark eyes of the woman she once trusted. "What is the price for betraying those you should have held so dear?"

Her gaze held firm as Marguerite dared to meet her eyes and she felt a victorious tug on her broken heart as she glanced away again quickly at the hatred she found in the face of her queen.

That moment of weakness was all Anne needed as the diverted eyes of not just Marguerite but the whole group of women gave her the only chance she needed. she didn't dwell on the thought a moment longer before pushing herself into a run as she barrelled down the corridor away from the open door to her rooms.

Fools.

* * *

"The disease of conspiracy spreads quickly. It can only be stopped at its source."

"Her own husband." Louis breathed, eyes fixed on the breakfast table before him as he continued to digest his wife's arrest. "Father of her child. It is...unthinkable."

"I know this is painful, but poison is..."

"You **DO NOT** know, Rochefort!" The King's eyes snapped from the heavily laid table to his own. "You do not know. You cannot know!" He exclaimed and Rochefort repressed an eye-roll; this man must be the only one in France, no; the world, who placed his wife on a pedestal so high the mere thought of betrayal was ludicrous.

"We must face the truth, however terrible." He pressed on, ignoring the nagging inside him that suggested something wasn't quite right. "The Queen is guilty."

The throwing open of the door snatched away what he wanted to add next and he felt his fists curl as the woman in question came running through it before throwing herself onto her knees at the King's side.

"I beg Your Majesty to listen to me..." She gripped his hand as Louis refused to meet her eye. "I would **NEVER** harm you: I am your queen, your loving wife."

"You shouldn't be here." Louis whispered as she lifted herself slightly to brush away the hair that was stopping him from seeing her tear stained face.

"Look into my eyes: tell me I'm guilty." She urged and Rochefort felt another bubble of anger rise as only then Marguerite and a guard came rushing into the room; that bloody woman couldn't even be trusted with transporting food. "You have been deceived by that man." She nodded to Rochefort, her eyes never leaving the King's and though he wanted nothing more than to have her dragged from his side, he knew letting the guard set one hand on her at this point could be the end of everything; he had to wait for the seeds he'd planted in the King's mind to overcome his urge to believe her.

"We must consider the evidence in the proper manner." Louis said, brushing her hand away to stand. He wanted to shoot her a victorious smirk as Louis moved away from her to the window, leaving her kneeling alone, but the sight of her; utterly crushed, was something he wanted to remember in its full glory.

He would look back on this day in years to come and say to himself that this _this_ was the moment when their victory began.

"I am falsely accused!" She protested, pushing Marguerite away as the governess tried to help her stand. She shot Rochefort one last hate filled look before allowing the woman to lead her away.

And then they were alone; the servants following the Queen out as he stared them down.

"Perhaps we should hear what she has to say."

"There is another matter." Rochefort said, ignoring the utterance that could undo all his good work. "Something so shocking, I can hardly bring myself to say it."

"What is it, Rochefort?" The King asked, his voice weary as he turned from the window to watch his First Minister. "Tell me."

"During my investigations into the Queen's conduct, I discovered the Cardinal himself harboured suspicions about her loyalty." He said, recalling the handful of hastily scribbled notes that he'd found throughout the Cardinal's papers, as he moved to stand beside the King. "He believed Her Majesty consorted...intimately...with the Musketeer Aramis, some nine months before the birth of the Dauphin. Naturally, the Musketeer has been arrested. I hope to establish the truth in due cour-"

"No, Rochefort!" Louis cried, his hands balling in his hair as silent sobs wracked through him. "We must have the truth now! Do you hear me? Everything." He took a deep breath as tears filled his eyes. "Everything, do you hear?"

"Of course…" He bowed low. "…as you wish, Your Majesty." He couldn't help the small smirk as Louis turned back to the window, bracing himself on the sill as he cried.

* * *

She wasn't sure if the cells were colder today, or if she was. She supposed there was some great message in that one fact; how when they had been full of so-called traitors who she had a shot, however slim, at saving; she could have been warm here. But now, with Lemay dead and Constance on the run, only Aramis remained, and the thought of him - the only one who actually had something to be guilty of - facing death, made her feel sick.

There were no guards down here, she'd ordered them to stay inside the palace and not accompany her down here under the guise of royal prisoners suddenly being able to run around with no-one to stop them. But truly, she just wanted to talk to him; make sure he was still relatively fine. And with Rochefort now fully believing not just in her loyalty but their future together, she shivered at the thought, she was free to do what she pleased.

"Are you going to torture me?"

"With a lantern and a pair of gloves?" She asked, setting the first down and unlocking the cell all while trying not to feel sad as he moved away from her to lean against the opposite wall; or as much of it as he could with those chains on. "I'm good, but even I'm not that creative."

"I doubt that."

"Oh come on, Aramis; what've you got to be sullen about?" She tried to joke as she stepped inside the cell.

"Might have something to do with being about to go on trial for treason." He bit back and she frowned.

"Yes." She sighed, leaning against her own wall. "I wish I could say that I'm sorry about that but it really was necessary." She told him. "You were the one thing I couldn't entirely plan for."

"Plan for?"

"You don't think any of this happened by chance do you?" She asked. "Did no one tell you what I am?"

"You're a cold-blooded Judas."

"Harsh." She drawled. "I'm not going to lie to you, Aramis: there's a good chance your life cannot be saved. Even if they find you innocent, Rochefort will kill you."

It killed her to say it but it was true. She'd done her best to keep the whole Anne-Aramis-Dauphin thing a secret but she hadn't planned on the governess to fall under Rochefort's control and start to do his bidding. So even now, with things falling perfectly into place; she couldn't guarantee Aramis' safety if he testified.

"But there is still hope for the Queen?"

"I hope so." She told him, running a gloved hand through her hair. "I'm doing my best Aramis." She said, letting the façade drop to show him her true feelings on the matter. "If I can stop you from losing your head I will; I'd walk onto that platform myself if I had to because none of this was supposed to happen! Rochefort wasn't supposed to get so powerful; I thought he'd just be a thorn in my side, but now, everything is happening so quickly and he plans I laid down so many months ago are obsolete."

She took a breath.

"I'm supposed to tell you that in exchange for a full confession from you, the King will divorce Her Majesty, disown the Dauphin, and allow both to live in exile." She said. "But we both know that's a load of horseshit." She felt her spirits raise at the small laugh he let out. "You **can** save her, Aramis." She promised. "Just speak the **truth**."

She shot him one last hard look, hoping he understood her before turning and stepping from the cell.

"Vargas." He muttered as she pulled the barred door closed.

"What?"

"Vargas." He repeated, his voice a little louder. "They've gone to find Vargas and bring him here."

"Vargas?" She breathed. "Vargas the Spanish Spymaster?" He nodded. "If I get you out can you get him?" He frowned at her question forcing her to take a breath and slow her speech. "I'm assuming they don't have a plan to get him in here. If I get you out, can you lead him back into the palace?"

"Probably?"

"That'll have to be good enough I suppose." She sighed. "Just remember; tell the truth."

She slid the key into the lock, turned it and stepped away, her mind filling with plans on how to help them do this properly; they had the right idea – get Vargas here and he can reveal Rochefort's lies. But get him here too early and there was the risk of ridding themselves of Rochefort before things start to unfurl and get him here too late and they'll all die.

She just hoped they knew what they were doing.

* * *

He pretty much had no idea what he was doing.

He knew that he had to draw Vargas as close to the French border as possible and get rid of all the spymaster's men before he could capture the Spaniard. But they were a resilient bunch it seemed and he was running out of ammunition.

Weapons laid out on the small patch of bare land he was watching the valley from, Porthos sighed; four pistols and a musket weren't going to much if they held out for much longer. He'd been here all night and his adrenaline was starting to fade.

There was only one thing that would give him the final push he needed to do this and as he slipped his pauldron back onto his arm, he knew he was ready.

 _For France_. He told himself. _For the King._ He nodded as he holstered his weapons. _For the Queen._ He stood, a pistol in each hand and with a direct line of sight to the searching group of Spaniards he made his position known with a single, well-placed shot to the spymaster's main bodyguard' chest.

"You are a fine shot for a lowly servant, monsieur." Vargas called up to him. "But how long do you think you can hold out? If you come down, we will make it quick. You have my word."

"All right then!" He shouted back as he fell into a crouch behind a rock with another perfect view. "Let's make it quick!" He fired again.

 _For his brothers._

* * *

The court had assembled in one of the palace's smaller council rooms and for that Aramis was slightly glad; smaller rooms meant no crowds could assemble to gossip about everything he stood accused of. As it stood, the lack of a crowd was no less intimidating and he forced himself to stand tall even as he was led into the room where every eye suddenly turned to him.

The court was comprised of mainly older men, all sat comfortably with reams of paper around them no doubt listing every charge and every scrap of evidence Rochefort had managed to either collect or create. The man at the heart of all this was reclined rather comfortably a little away from the head of the main table and Aramis felt his spine stiffen under his sneering gaze.

The room silenced as soon as he took his spot in front of them and with one glance to the Bible in the approaching man's hands, he felt his heart sink slightly before reminding himself of Anna's words. He had to do this. Not a soul believed that the child would be saved if Anne's adultery was revealed and if there was one thing Aramis knew about being a father, it was that he'd do _anything_ to save his son.

"We are here to establish the facts of the Queen's infidelity." Rochefort drawled from his chair. "You are accused of seducing the Queen at the convent in Bourbon-les-Eaux. And of fathering her child." The Bible was held out in front of him. "Do you swear to give us the truth of this sordid encounter?"

' _There are six things the LORD hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.'  
_ _ **Proverbs 6:16-20**_

Aramis swallowed down the teaching, one that he knew so well and focused on the moving of his hand to rest upon the cover of the holiest book. He took one breath and forcing his eyes to meet Rochefort's he sealed his fate.

"I do."

"To lie after swearing such a sacred oath is to damn your immortal soul for eternity." Rochefort reminded him as the book was taken away. "Do you understand?"

"I understand that God is with us now, in this room. We will all be judged for what is in our hearts."

"Very true." Rochefort smiled and Aramis felt his insides turn. "Do you love the Queen, Aramis? Will you confess?"

"I will." He took another breath before plastering a calm look on his face as he held eye contact with the Comte. "I confess to knowing that you are a liar, whose promises can never be trusted: you could never afford to leave the Queen alive, Rochefort - she knows you are a Spanish spy, she knows you are a murderer. You assaulted Her Majesty without invitation or provocation, and now, you intend to conceal your lies by accusing the innocent? It is Rochefort who is the **traitor**! Rochefort who is the **enemy**! And Rochefort who should **BE ON TRIAL!** "

The court of men broke out into a chorus of murmurs as papers were rattled and his testimony dissected. But his only concern was of the man before him. He had considered what he would say very carefully after Anna had left – he could only say so much here and with no evidence in hand his truth would no doubt be overlooked but he hoped that wherever the King was concealed, wherever he was listening from, he would hear the truth in his words.

"So, you deny the charges?"

"I do."

Rochefort pushed himself from his chair and strolled around it to clasp its back in his fists as he glared at Aramis.

"A confession might have kept some small part of your honour intact. Instead, you disgrace yourself with these outrageous lies." He gestured to the Red Guard stationed on the council chamber door as the sound of it opening filled the space.

The soft clicking of heels on the palace's floors broke the silence and Aramis let his eyes drift from his feet to the open doorway.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp." Rochefort crooned as a woman stepped into the chamber, the door sealing behind her.

"My Lords." She dropped into a curtsey as she reached the empty space not far from his side letting Aramis' eyes wander over her as she rose. Hair pulled back and piled atop her head in some intricate hairstyle, she was a complete stranger to the woman he'd known for so many years.

He could see Rochefort in everything she wore; from the leather breeches and boots she now apparently favoured over everything else, to the ruby red dress she wore over them.

"Do you swear your testimony to be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

"Mademoiselle, can you confirm that you were actually present at the convent in Bourbon-les-Eaux at the same time as The Queen?"

"I can." She smiled to Rochefort as Aramis struggled to find the crack in her mask where the real Anna was hiding. Where she promised them she still was. "We fled to the convent following an attempt on Her Majesty's life during her visit to the waters there. It was the only place of safety for Her Majesty while we investigated."

"Who remained at the convent with The Queen during this time."

"Myself, the Musketeer Lieutenant Athos and the accused." She spared him a look as she spoke.

"You have since left the Musketeer regiment, Mademoiselle. Can you elaborate as to why?" Aramis shifted slightly as she took a moment to meet the eyes of each member of the court.

"I fail to see why that is relevant to this trial." She said smoothly. "What I can elaborate on is the loyalty of the regiment both during my time as a part of it and now: it's members have worked tirelessly to prove the Queen's innocence."

Her eyes met Rochefort's again and Aramis watched a flash of annoyance spark in the Comte's. he understood her game now; she was going to try and de-rail this as best she could. She'd worked to get herself into a position of trust so she would be summoned to this very trial only to bring it down around Rochefort's ears.

"While at the convent in Bourbon-les-Eaux, did anything…sordid occur?"

He watched as she took a moment to wet her lips before answering.

"It did, my Lord." Rochefort fought to keep the pull of his lips from blooming into a full-on victorious smile as Anna fidgeted slightly. "I must confess that while seeking the sanctuary of the Holy ordinance, I shared a bed with a man I am not wed nor betrothed too: May God forgive me."

The room was deathly silent as Anna hung her head in mock shame while Rochefort's hands tightened around the chair back. Aramis himself was trying not to laugh at her testimony; she was playing with them and succeeding.

"I'm sure he will, Mademoiselle." Rochefort bit out. "But that is not the sordid relation I meant."

"If your question was; did anything occur between Aramis and Her Majesty the Queen, then I'm afraid I cannot comment." She told him, her head now up as she stared at him, one eyebrow slightly raised in challenge. "For I was not near Her Majesty that night."

"So, something could-"

"But I can say that when I rose in the night to collect a glass of water, Aramis was still in place **outside** Her Majesty's assigned room." She offered him a sweet smile. "And from what I myself have heard about the Musketeer Aramis, he does tend to utilise the _whole_ night when he shares a woman's bed." Rochefort continued to simply glare at her as she stood. "Any further questions, my Lord? I was present at the Dauphin's birth if that is of any help? I am more than qualified to attest to his nature as a baby; he shares nothing of the battle-worn characteristics my former colleague possesses. In fact, I would say that he is a prime example of the Bourbon dynasty and a true Fils de France."

"Thank you for your testimony, Mademoiselle." Rochefort ground out. "That is all."

"Of course, my Lord." She dropped into another curtsey, meeting Aramis' eye fleetingly as she did. He wished he could thank her; wished he could apologise for ever doubting her. He swore to himself that as soon as he reunited with his brothers, he would tell them everything. Antoinette Beauchamp was indeed a spy but her loyalty was to them, unquestionably. "I hope I have been of service."

Rochefort said nothing as she rose and turned to leave the room. Aramis watched her leave, the hem of her dress dragging slightly behind her, before he turned back to Rochefort. The man was the picture of rage, though he was trying hard to not show it.

It was then he understood the true sacrifice she had just made for him; not only had she completely blown her cover to save his neck, but she'd knowingly made herself Rochefort's number one enemy. She wasn't getting out of this. Her look to him had been more than proof of her innocence. It had been her goodbye.

"Bring in the next witness."

He wanted to curse. He wanted to curse them all to hell but especially her: Anna was going to die for her words because she hadn't banked on a second witness, she was a fool. He wanted to make a break for it; to run after her and scream for her to run. Because the woman who stepped into the room now would undo all she had said.

He had trusted Lady Marguerite, as foolish as that sounded and he'd hoped she was too dull to piece it together but apparently anyone can become aware if they're under Rochefort's tutelage.

"Lady Marguerite, you saw the Queen and Aramis in private together." Rochefort addressed her as she stumbled into the room, his voice significantly cooler than when he'd welcomed Anna. He wondered how far her hold over the Comte had grown, how much she could get away with and how much her testimony had wounded him. "How would you describe their behaviour?" She glanced to Aramis as she came to a stop a mere handful of steps from him. "Look at me. Not him."

"They were intimate." She said, tears rolling down her cheeks; at least she knew what she was doing was wrong. "Like lovers."

"But you yourself were also the Musketeer's lover?" She flinched as the secret became public before nodding once. "We must hear you."

"I was."

"Did that affair begin when you first came to court?"

"Soon after: when I was appointed Royal Governess to the Dauphin."

"His romantic interest in you only coincided with your appointment?" He asked, feigning innocence as he verbally pushed and prodded her into a corner.

"I...I…Yes."

"When he sought your company, were you always alone?"

"Alone, but for the Dauphin."

"So, was it you he really wanted to see..." He asked, turning his attention back to Aramis. "…or was it the boy?"

Aramis felt his jaw clench at the question. For all his faults Rochefort was no fool, he had learnt very quickly not to ask such vague questions, not to count on the witness providing the testimony he wanted. He would lead Marguerite to the confession he so desperately wanted.

"His first thought was always with the child."

"Why did he care for him so much?"

"Because he…because he loved him…" She stammered out. Aramis watched from the corner of his eye as she glanced to him, her eyes pleading as he refused to meet them. "…because he is his son."

The court erupted at her words and he let his eyes close in defeat. The court would only remember those five words and all Anna had done would be for nothing: she would die, he would die, his son would die.

He turned to Marguerite as she reached the doorway and knowing it was the right thing to do, he offered her a soft blink of his eyes and the inclination of his head and hoped she knew that he forgave her, that he understood how she'd been forced to do this.

"You have deceived the court." Rochefort spoke over the murmurs as they settled around him. "But worse, you have betrayed the King, the man you are sworn to serve, in the foulest possible way. No doubt you hoped to save your lover, the Queen, but you have only condemned her and damned your own soul." He moved from the chair to stand right in front of him, his eyes gleaming with joy as he delivered his last line. "You are to be taken from here to await execution in a manner...appropriate to your heinous crimes."

* * *

He'd waited until the councillors had left to let it all really sink in; he'd won. Aramis would die for his treason and the Queen would now face whatever consequence he saw fit because the idiot had chosen to try and save his own skin instead of hers. The child would be dealt with swiftly, he decided; he'd allow Anne to go to her death believing he would be safe before disposing of him after. He would allow her that one comfort.

But his joy was short lived as flashes of a red dress decorated ornately with gold all along its back and down its arms came into his mind. His fist curled as her words replayed in his mind. He felt as though she'd struck him; as though she'd driven a dagger into his ribs. He had allowed himself to be blinded once again by his love for a woman who he now knew would never love him back.

She had played him. From the very start no doubt. How had he fallen for it? He soothed himself with memories of the Cardinal's notes on her time in Spain. _An intriguing ability to acclimatise; valuable is not the word for this asset. She may be our best yet._ Of course, she'd fooled him, he reasoned, trying to heal the wounds, it was her job to.

But she had forgotten one thing it seemed; it was his job to punish those who betrayed. The thought had him pushing from his chair and stalking from the room towards the small set of steps that would take him to the hidden balcony from which The King had been listening.

He found him still clad in his pyjamas with a pale face and clenched hands. At last he'd stopped crying.

"The Musketeer will be executed immediately." He said as means of a greeting. He had no time now to bow and scrape to the broken King and knew he would face little objection. "As will the false witness." He couldn't bring himself to say her name but felt relieved when Louis gave a short nod. "There is the matter of the Queen's future..."

"Not now, Rochefort." He croaked out.

"Sire, we must-"

"I have lost more than a queen today." His voice rose, growing strong with rage as the truth began to settle inside him. "I have lost my son: my only son." He took a breath. "Leave me."

He felt his lips purse in frustration as the King refused to turn to face him, but forcing himself to continue to play this infernal game, he turned and left. The Queen would have to wait it seemed; he had more pressing things to do anyway.

* * *

He'd waited hours for this; hours of running between trees and rocks and luring them closer and closer to the border until they'd eventually crossed into the country. Then it had been a case of keeping them occupied; too busy to realise that they were no longer within the boundary of Spain. That was the beauty of this rocky valley; it's location was deceptive and one wrong turn could see you arrested with ease.

He'd genuinely though it was all over when a pistol was cocked in his face by the last bodyguard Vargas had brought with him. But he should have known better than to think they would leave him here for dead.

With more gunshots ringing out all around him, he knew they would end the chase and lure he'd been playing at all night and day and he was relieved.

And so here they were; four Musketeers and Constance surrounding Vargas as he knelt in enemy territory. Finally.

"You are a poor interrogator." The Spaniard ground out as Porthos continued to hold his arm at a twisted angle behind his back. "Mere pain is nothing." He spat, his words turning into groans as Porthos took immense pleasure in pushing the limb even further. "I will never betray my country." He promised as Athos begrudgingly pulled his away from the man, his arm only a few more poorly chosen comments away from breaking.

"You already have." Athos drawled as he kept one hand on Porthos.

"What do you mean?"

"Does King Philip want to see his own sister murdered?" Vargas' eyes snapped from him to is their side where Treville, D'Artagnan and Constance stood.

"Rochefort intends to kill her." D'Artagnan told him. "She may only be hours away from her execution."

"The King loves his sister. If she dies, he'll want revenge." Athos released him as he spoke and with a nod from Porthos as a promise not to break the man's arm, he strolled back to their Captain. "And he'll come to you first."

"Rochefort was never told to harm the Queen." Vargas told them.

"He's a monster of your making."

"He is no monster." The Spaniard sighed. "But he is mine."

"Give evidence against Rochefort and you save the Queen." Athos offered. "If you run, she dies…and so do you."

"Rochefort's capacity for suffering was remarkable. When I turned him, I had great hopes for him. But even I could not imagine he would climb so far."

"He has an ally." Porthos said, regaining the man's attention. He glanced around at them, his eyes landing on Athos as he broached the subject none of them seemed willing to. "A woman also working for your country."

"We have no female assets in France." No one said anything as Vargas spoke. "If there is a woman assisting Rochefort, she is either under his spell or deceiving you all." He laughed at their torn looks and Porthos felt the urge to wipe that smile off his face using his fist. He wouldn't believe that everything she'd been lying about was part of a ruse; it had gone on for too long to be part of some bigger plan – no one was that good. "But if you were to share her name I could double-check."

"Enough about her." Treville said, silencing the Spaniard but focusing on Porthos. "Her truth will come out." He assured him. "But Rochefort is too dangerous to leave any longer: you created him. Now you must destroy him."

* * *

The palace corridors were silent as he stalked down them; the remaining few courtiers hushing each other as he passed. News had flooded the palace already it seemed; he wasn't sure what they were whispering about more though; the suicide of the Dauphin's governess or the imprisonment of his former right-hand woman.

He hadn't expected it to elicit an emotion from him; seeing her lying there motionless, but he had felt something tug at his heart and it disgusted him. She'd taken the interrogation very well, he'd almost applauded her as she withstood another punch to the ribs from his guard, her beautiful gown masking the bruises so well.

But her sickeningly sweet smile as his eyes had zeroed in on the actual shape of the gilded decoration on each bicep.

" _Te sientes estúpido?"_

The fact that she'd asked in Spanish had enraged him further that he thought possible but her laughter as his own hand closed in around her throat had seen him give it only one tight squeeze before storming away from the cell she'd been chained into with the guard and his reddening knuckles following.

He shook all thoughts of her and the fleur-de-lis' on her shoulders from his mind as he pushed open the double doors to the Queen's suite.

"The truth about your liaison with Aramis has been established." He announced as he entered to find her stood and glaring at him. He offered her a false smile. "But I may yet be able to plead with the King on your behalf."

"I am the Queen. Sister to the King of Spain. I do not plead for anything."

He laughed lightly, turning to gathered trio of ladies-in-waiting stood behind him and with a simple raise of his eyebrow, had them scurrying from the room, the door closing swiftly behind them.

"You need a friend."

"I have many friends. And they will come for me as they did for Constance."

"Oh, they will not come." He allowed a small smile to play on his lips. "There is only you and I now."

"Where is your new lapdog?" She asked, glancing to the doorway. "Is she too ashamed to show her face to me? To face the people she has betrayed?"

"Will it bring you comfort if I tell you that she never betrayed you?" He asked, stepping forward. "That she defended you and your Musketeer in open court? That she…played me?"

"Anna?" She breathed. "She…"

"I admit, it was difficult to have her chained up and beaten, but torture is good for the soul; it makes you stronger." He told her moving closer, watching as she flinched at the image he painted and the look of realisation that played across her features before they hardened again. "In Spain, there was a man who led my torture: every day, Vargas and I would cross new thresholds of torment together. Do you know why it took so long for him to break me?" He paused. "You. The mere thought of you was a refuge from my agony."

"Know this, Rochefort..." She took her own step closer. "In all that time...I did not think of you once."

He felt his features harden at her words; at the honesty in her voice and the fact that twice now he had been deceived in love.

"Very soon, your lover Aramis will be broken upon the wheel. That body you found so precious will be torn limb from limb. Still you love him."

"You understand nothing about love."

"It is pain!" He told her, his mind filling with Anna's choked laugh. "Suffering!"

"It is neither!"

"No? His arms will be shattered…then his legs…then his back. He will beg for death." She let out a broken sob and stumbled back into her chair. "There it is: Love." He sneered, crouching before her. "You understand how his suffering will be nothing compared to what you feel inside right now? Now you know something of the agony I endure every minute of every day."

* * *

The guards here only walked past his cell when there was something to gloat about. It was how he'd heard of Marguerite's death and Rochefort's lack of mercy when he'd found Anna waiting for him in his office.

He hadn't needed them to tell him what 'lack of mercy' meant. He'd heard it himself; heard the grunt of the guards as they'd taken turns to beat her. but she had stayed quiet, had taken it all and never screamed or begged for mercy. She wouldn't die down here though, he was sure of that. even if they couldn't get her out, Rochefort wouldn't let her waste away down here; she'd be a spectacle for him when he eventually gained all the power he wanted.

The prospect alone had had him pulling and twisting at his manacles and the long lengths of chain they used to keep the most important prisoners restrained to the brick walls.

He gave one last tug on them before allowing his legs to buckle as he slid down the wall. There was no way he was getting out of here on his own. He took a breath and did the only thing he could think of.

"God, if you spare them and by some miracle, I'm allowed to live, I vow to devote all my remaining days to your grace. I will renounce all worldly temptations. I will...even my duty..." He trailed off as footsteps sounded. He couldn't make out which way they were travelling but he knew that the steady pace meant only one thing; an executioner walked these dungeons. "I am not worthy of your mercy: I didn't believe in my friend and I didn't save the mother of my child…" He gritted his teeth as the steps became louder as they headed for him. "My soul is prepared I-"

He cut himself off at the sound of someone falling to the floor with a thump. He turned his head slightly, not believing that his prayers had been answered but…

"God works in mysterious ways, does he not?"

Of all the people he'd imagined would stage a rescue, Milady de Winter with a dagger in one hand and a set of stolen keys in another, had not been one.

She wasted no time in unlocking his cell and manacles before leading the way out into the main corridors of the dungeons.

"The Queen?" He asked, rubbing his wrists as they walked.

"Alive: no thanks to you."

"And the others?"

"Gone to help Porthos."

"Then Rochefort's allegations will soon be disproved." He said, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Even those that are true?" She asked, throwing a wink over her shoulder as they continued to move towards a corner.

"It won't be long before they discover my escape." He said, ignoring her bait and increasing his pace.

"It was not an escape, it was a rescue." She corrected as they reached the corner. "For which you are very welcome."

"It's not a rescue yet…"

They turned the corner and he felt himself frown at the number of horses waiting for them. He opened his mouth to query but felt it snap shut as a Red Guard came barrelling towards him. Using his momentum against him, Aramis swung him into the nearest piece of wall.

"No!" he shouted as quietly as possible as a dagger appeared at the guard's throat ending his struggle. "We don't need to kill him."

"Why not?"

He answered by simply using the guard's stillness to slam his head into the bricks and render him unconscious.

"You shouldn't treat death so lightly." He told her, letting the man drop as he turned back to the two horses. "Where's Anna?"

"She's not coming."

"We have to get her." He said, pushing past her to re-enter the depths of the dungeon. "I could hear her so she wasn't far from me and-"

"She's not coming." Milady stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm not leaving her; she's only down here because-"

"Because if she's down here then that's where all the guards will be congregated. More on her means less on you." She told him. "You don't think she gave herself up on a whim, do you?" She tugged on his jerkin and strode to the horses, forcing him to follow.

"She knew."

"Of course she knew." She pulled herself up into a saddle. "When are you men going to realise that women are smarter than we seem?"

* * *

Athos hadn't expected Vargas to come so easily. A few well-placed reminders of who their Queen was and who would be responsible for her death had him mounting a horse in no time and now they were back in Paris with the renowned spymaster sitting quietly amongst four Musketeers as they readied their weaponry.

Their plan revolved entirely on him continuing to be this agreeable otherwise…well they'd die.

The heavy bangs on the safe-house door were not a part of the plan. Letting his pistol slip into his grip, he nodded once to Treville and Porthos as they stood with their own ready, he wrenched open the door.

Hand slipping around Aramis' shoulders, he pressed a kiss to the man's cheek and murmured a quick 'welcome back' as Porthos' laugh filled the room.

"You just won't die, will you?" He smiled at D'Artagnan's welcome as he was embraced by each of the assembled group, but felt it drop slightly as another figure stepped into the doorway.

"She rescued me." Aramis said as all eyes turned to Milady.

"Then you can come in." He held the door open wider for her and let her slip into the space. "Thank you."

She nodded to him once before moving through the room, past the embracing Treville and Aramis to lean against the opposite door frame. He watched her slow figure with a frown, swiping a decanter of wine and a glass from the side as he moved back to the weapons table.

"How did you do it?" He asked, turning all their attention back to her as he poured a drink.

"A distraction." She said. "Rochefort has a new prisoner; one of far more value than the already condemned Aramis – all his guards were on her."

"Her?" He asked, hand stilling and eyes moving Aramis as the man scratched the back of his head with a sigh. "Who?"

"You need to decide whether or not you believe her." Helene's words were sharp. "Stop switching sides and decide; all of you."

"Anna blew her cover during my trial." Aramis explained, taking the drink from Athos' outstretched hand. "She knew that I'd be found guilty but if she was in a cell too…"

"So you need to decide." Helene repeated. "Do you believe her?"

"Now isn't the time." Treville began, glancing to Vargas with a grim look. "We can-"

"I'm giving you the keys to get back into the palace until you tell me if you believe her."

"And when did you two become so close?" D'Artagnan sneered.

"When she told me that if I got Aramis out of prison, she'd get me out of the country; let me start a new life" She told them. "Or maybe when she believed **me**." She met his eyes.

"She was willing to let Constance die." D'Artagnan argued. "And she could have defended Aramis before it ever got as far as court."

"She told me to give you all time." Helene said, cutting across him. "She told me that when it was all over you'd come to see the truth but I'm not letting you loiter that long. I cheat and lie and kill without conscience and you've trusted me these past days." She reminded them. "Why is she so different?"

"I believe her." Aramis said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them as her words lingered in the air. "Anyone who willingly undergoes Rochefort's torture; things that he probably learnt from him…" He nodded to Vargas as the man watched them closely. "…is clearly on my side."

"I've never doubted her." Treville reminded them.

"And you four?" Helene looked to him, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Constance in turn. "Where do you stand?"

"She defended the Queen?" Constance asked Aramis who nodded. "Then I believe her."

"I trust Aramis." Porthos declared. "So I guess that means I trust her."

"You don't have a female asset in France?" D'Artagnan asked Vargas. "Truly?"

"You don't trust my word?" The Spaniard laughed. "Women are of little use as spies; if you have one in the palace here then she is one-of-a-kind."

"Fine." The youngest Musketeer took Constance's hand. "But I don't forgive her."

"And now you." Helene turned to face him directly. "I wish I could say I'm glad you're taking longer than five minutes to condemn someone these days." His eyes narrowed as her fingers lifted to play with the green band around her neck.

He glanced around the room, takin gin their faces as they watched him in return. It would be a lie to say he was still conflicted over her. He'd made his decision and now he was just trying to figure out how it would change them. He took a breath and admitted his truth out loud for the first time.

"I trust her."

* * *

"Aramis has escaped." The words hung in the air as Rochefort strolled from the window to face the King directly as the young fool sat atop his bed. "The conspirators will most likely come for the Queen next. If she were to escape, who knows how many would rally to her cause? It would mean rebellion: civil strife."

"What can we do?" He asked, shoulders slumped in defeat as everything he'd held dear for so long began to crumble around him.

"Perhaps a more permanent solution? Exile for Her Majesty? New France?"

"From where this treachery can continue?!" Louis pushed himself from the mattress to stand, his voice hard with emotion.

"Forgive my foolishness." He said, his own voice dead as the final piece of the puzzle inched closer and closer. "Your Majesty is wise."

"You're not foolish, Rochefort." He fought the recoil as the King's hand came to rest atop his shoulder, his eyes full of pity. "You are a dear friend: the only one who gives me the truth. Even though it's harmful to your own cause." He wanted to laugh at the irony of his words.

"Then I must, in all humility, do so again, Majesty." He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a single piece of folded paper.

"What is that?"

"The only certain way of defeating her enemies." Louis' face fell again as he realised what it was. "You must sign it. Only then can you be safe." He moved to the King's desk, unfolded the sheet and placed it atop the ornate table. "You must sign the Queen's death warrant."

Louis' eyes remained fixed on the paper as he too approached the desk. Reaching for a quill, he all but fell into the waiting chair. He let the inked feather hover over the sheet, his hands perfectly still as Rochefort watched him contemplate what he was truly doing.

"I cannot kill my own..." He cried, dropping the quill and standing abruptly to face him.

"You must do it, Sire."

"I cannot!" He sobbed. "I will be alone in the world."

"Would you rather raise the son of two traitors as your own?!"

"No."

"Endure a lifetime of humiliation?"

"Do not speak to your king in this way!" He protested weakly but Rochefort continued, knowing he was pressing every weak spot the pathetic King had.

"Leave behind a false legacy?"

"Enough!" He knew that would be the one that got him. "Enough..." Louis took a breath, his chest heaving, before turning back to the desk. He slid into the chair, picked up the quill and with quick strokes, signed his name. "It must be quiet..." He insisted as Rochefort wasted no time in snatching it away from him. "…and swift." Rochefort ignored him and stalked o the door, hands itching to finish this. "It must be swift." Louis insisted and with a sigh Rochefort turned, playing his part again but hopefully for the last time.

"Your Majesty is most merciful."

* * *

"Let me out." She pushed all of her strength into those three words as she clung onto the bars of her cell, desperately hoping her legs didn't give out from under her as she extended her chains as far as they could. "I said; let me out."

"You're a prisoner of the First Minister of France; accused of treason, espionage and perjury." The guard stationed outside her cell drawled, his back still to her. "You're going nowhere."

"I know you think what you're doing is right, but people will die if you keep me here." She insisted, willing him to just turn around.

He ignored her.

"Maybe we can come to some sort of…agreement?" She asked, dropping her voice and hoping the bruised outline of Rochefort's fingers around her neck was offset by the splendour of her dress that had somehow sustained her beating.

"Agreement?" He turned his head slightly. "What sort of agreement?"

"Whatever you want." She crooned, batting her eyelashes at him and smiling slowly as he fully turned to her.

"Hmmm." His smile matched hers as her arms snaked between the bars for her hands to rest on his waist. "And what makes you think I'd want anything to do with you?" He sneered and she let the rejection show on her face. "Fine clothes and a sweet voice don't hide what you are...whore."

He laughed at her blank face and made to turn back around but she was faster. Laughter died on his lips as the dagger she'd slipped from his belt was now embedded in his ribs.

"Don't call me a whore." She whispered, her jaw tight as he fell, his body colliding with the floor with a thud. She sneered at him before falling into a crouch to rifle through his pockets for the keys to her cell.

* * *

Nobody stopped them as they entered the palace through the tunnelled entrance. There wasn't a single guard roaming the corridors as they stepped out into them and the usual sounds of courtiers moving about was gone.

They said nothing to each other as they made their way slowly through the palace, sharing only the briefest of glances as they stopped to check around corridors, but the confusion was etched on each of their faces as they closed ranks around their Spanish captive as he scrutinised the palace.

"Where are all the guards?" He voiced their question, ignoring the sharp nudge to his back as his voice echoed through the main staircase. "With such poor protection, no wonder France falters."

"There are no servants…no courtiers." Constance mumbled as she brought up the rear of the group.

"I must go to the Queen!" Aramis said as they reached the landing separating the staircase. Athos gave a short nod, he and Porthos moving to keep a hold of Vargas as Constance rushed after Aramis.

"Musketeers!"

It was just their luck that at the exact moment their group parted, guards appeared. Rapiers now in hand, Vargas was pushed aside and their battle to the King began.

* * *

She was weak and sore and every step alerted her to some new bruise forming under her clothes. She should be thankful to the guards though, she thought miserably as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror hanging over a side table lining one of the corridors she now stumbled down; they'd left her face fairly free of marks and the only visible sign of her torture was her unkempt and matted hair, hanging free down her back and the slightly wild look in her eyes.

Using the table edge to stabilise her for a moment she let one hand tentatively prod around her throat and winced as her fingers made contact with the darkening bruise there.

She took a breath and wondered if she could spare just a few minutes to sit and take a breath. The sudden burst of gunshots resonating from deep within the palace gave her her answer and with one last glance at her wild appearance, she pushed off the table and continued to stagger down the corridor, one hand on the wall and the other clutching the pistol she'd stolen from her now-dead guard.

This ended now.

* * *

"Holy Mary, Mother of God…" He watched as she clutched her rosary in both hands; head bowed as she did what any God-fearing woman who knew she deserved punishment would do; beg for forgiveness. "…pray for us sinners…now and at the hour of our death."

"Amen." He finished for her, his voice carrying from his place in the doorway of her bedroom.

The palace had emptied with remarkable speed and his journey to this very room with so many doors locking behind him had been swift with no one to stop him as the silver garrotte dangled from his fingertips. The ornate chain work of the implement would be perfect for a Queen; it's pattern would pass for the imprint of a necklace and when her body would be displayed in Notre Dame, nothing would be untoward.

And when it was all over, when Her Majesty was properly dealt with and the bastard child removed from this place, he would be King in all but name. this small stretch of chain work was all that stood between him and ultimate power.

She didn't move from her altar and that was fine by him; having her back to him and neck exposed would make this considerably easier on both of them. She turned only when he stopped directly behind her, her head inclining to the chain between his fingers as he dropped one handle to properly swing it.

She looked away again, sniffing back the small tears that were rolling down her cheeks. He was glad she didn't sob; didn't beg for mercy. He couldn't stand it when people cried out a last request. He saw now why he had been so easily fooled by the Beauchamp girl; she shared so many qualities with her Queen – strength, resilience and a plethora of other characteristics that had no doubt been honed to appeal directly to him

" _How much do you love the Queen, Rochefort?"_

He could still hear her question; the one that had started all of this. If she'd just kept her nose out of his business he would have left her alone until she needed to be dealt with. But her and her questions had forced his hand and now they were here; all of them in the same palace but facing very different futures.

He let his gloved hand rest on the side of her neck, forcing away all thoughts of the witch who had ensnared him and almost thwarted everything and focusing on the task at hand.

"You will never touch me again, Rochefort."

She told him, her voice surprisingly strong as he cupped the back of her neck, questioning if it would be more satisfying to do this by hand. His mind flashed with images of the think bruise that had started to bloom around his prisoner's throat almost immediately after releasing her and reminded himself of the simplicity of the chain. How easily it would be hidden afterwards.

He rested one knee on the raised platform on which she herself knelt and heard the jangle of the chain as he lifted in to hold between his hands.

"Don't you dare." His hands stilled as the chain lifted above Anne's head and he felt his fists curl around the small handles at the low warning coming from behind him.

"How?" He asked, his mind whirring to try and figure out exactly how she'd escaped and entered this room unheard.

"Does it matter?" She replied, a pistol cocking as she took another step forward. "All you need to know is: I'm here and you've lost."

"You sound so confident, Mademoiselle Beauchamp." He said, his hands still holding the raised chain as the Queen took shallow breaths in front of him. "If not a little sore; did the walk take it out of you?" He refused to turn to her. refused. Because that would mean giving up his chance of revenge.

"I've experienced worse." His jaw tightened as the pistol barrel hit the bac of his head and ground into the skin there. "Now; get up." He let the chain drop from one hand, holding them apart in silent surrender as he rose, the pistol remaining at his skull. "Your Majesty…" The blonde in front of him slumped slightly, more silent tears likely rolling down her cheeks. "…I'm going to have to ask you to move but don't leave your rooms; the guards orders are likely to shoot you on sight."

The Queen nodded once, Rochefort's eyes still trained on her as she too rose and slipped away, her heels echoing furiously as she ran into the antechamber of her suites.

"Does it feel good to be wearing your true face again?" He asked, hands still raised. "To be back on the side of 'good'?" He sneered at the word.

"I was never on any other side, Rochefort." She said, the pistol moving back slightly to allow him to turn to her. "Or are you still clinging to some shred of hope that I actually loved you and believed in you?"

"I wondered why they chose you, you know." He told her as he faced her, the garrotte chain dangling just to the side of her face. "Why of all people they trusted you with Madrid? You were far too meek and mild when we met, far too easy to manipulate; too scared your secret would come out." He half-smiled at her. "How wrong I was."

"We all have apart to play."

"Indeed." He drawled. "So, what's the plan now?" He asked. "It's just you, me and Her Majesty; like it was always meant to be."

"The plan now is to wait for the King to burst in with a full pardon…and if you more before that; I'm going to shoot you in the face."

"And what makes you think His Majesty-"

"Vargas is here." She said, and he felt his breath stop suddenly at the name. "It was a challenge to stagger through the palace without him seeing me; can't have him knowing my face now can we? But I managed it. And now he's with the King – a full Musketeer guard at his back, and he's telling him **everything**."

He paused.

"Well played, Mademoiselle."

"I wish I could take the credit." She smirked. "But it's entirely down to your favourite band of Musketeers; I genuinely couldn't have planned it better."

"And when the Queen is pardoned what happens to you? Who will confirm your innocence? Who will stop me from implicating you in everything?"

"I don't care if I die." She told him as he watched her for any sign of lying. "I haven't since I first entered the Royal Palace of Madrid."

"Good to know."

He let the statement hang in the air for a mere second before knocking the pistol from her hands and swinging the garrotte up and around her neck. With both her hands scrabbling to prise away the thin chain, he forced her to her knees with ease smirking to the now openly crying Queen as he dragged the female spy to the doorway separating the bedroom from the antechamber.

He crossed the end of the chain, keeping a firm pull on it as it began to choke her and smiled.

"I-"

The chain fell from his hand immediately, Anna's gasps for air all he could hear as a searing pain tore through his shoulder.

"Get away from her!" Aramis' voice rang out and he let a growl escape his throat as he saw Constance Bonacieux move to kneel beside the shaking monarch.

"Vargas?" Anna croaked as Aramis faced him, rapier in hand.

"With the King."

"Then kill him." She said, her voice low as his eyes met hers. He wanted to laugh at the fury and lust for vengeance her found there but his hand was working of its own accord to free his own rapier from its hilt.

His now useless left arm clutched to his side he gave one almighty growl before lunging at the Musketeer who he hated above the rest.

He wasn't going down without a fight.

"You think you can save them?" He cried as he ricocheted off the wall he'd been thrown into and stared at Aramis. "You don't have the best record of saving sluts."

Aramis lunged at him again but he was ready for it; matching every blow as they moved from the bedroom into the antechamber. Wrist flicking in a practiced move his blade screeched along Aramis' until the Musketeer was close enough for him to pull into a choke hold. All he had to do was incapacitate the man and he'd dispose of his two blonde sirens with a pistol. But the Musketeer was crafty and a roar left Rochefort as a finger pressed down onto his protected eye.

He released him and spun away, not bothering to spare glances to the three women surrounding them, as he pulled a dagger from the back of his belt.

"The Cardinal's mistress, Lady Marguerite…" He began to list off the names, watching as each one riled him up further. "…now it's the Queen and your former friend." He laughed darkly. "You can save one." He waved the dagger. "The other will have this embedded in their throat."

Aramis lunged again, their rapiers meeting with ease. He smiled as he saw that the Musketeer had unintentionally made his choice as they moved with his back always staying to the Queen. Idiot. Regardless of what happened here today; Aramis rushing to her bedroom to save her would only reinforce the King's mistrust of them. He could die and she'd still hang. Now, he just had to find the Beauchamp girl to really hammer this home.

"Where-"

Once again he found himself cut off as a yell left him; another wave of pain flooding through him.

"I'd like to see you try." He could picture her ruby lips whispering menacingly into his ear as he fell to one knee, the dagger Anna had twisted from his grasp and imbedded in his shoulder blade pushing deeper.

The room was suddenly silent as Aramis dropped his rapier and spared him no look as he and Anna rushed to the Queen.

"Are you alright?" "I'm so sorry it got that close." "Thank God."

The rushed words reached him as he forced his strength into his buckled leg and pushed himself back up onto his feet. Staggering to the doorway, his heavy breaths broke into muted laughs as even more Musketeers greeted him: stood in a perfect line with rapiers outstretched and hands on their holstered pistols were Porthos, D'Artagnan and Athos.

He sneered at the sight of them and reached behind to pull free the dagger with a hiss: the squelching sound of steel dragging through sinew filling the air.

"It is finished." His eyes darted from the Musketeers to the figure in black strolling through the doorway. "The French King knows everything."

"You have betrayed me?" The words left him in a rush as he stared at Vargas.

"You left me no choice." He told him simply. "Spain thanks you for your service."

"None of this was for Spain!" He ground out, his hand shaking in rage as the man simply shrugged before turning and leaving them with Treville as his escort. "None of it!" He cried.

"Surrender." The order was clear as the Musketeers dropped their rapiers, Aramis moving to stand beside them.

"I will never surrender to any of you." He told them as Vargas disappeared from view. "You…" He turned to the group of women stood away from the Musketeers. "You and I will finish this." He tossed the bloody dagger to her feet.

* * *

"I bet you never expected a literal knife to the back." Anna mused as she crouched to the pick up the dagger. "But you never have been very good at seeing past what's right in front of you." She gestured to the intact fleur-de-lis' on her biceps. "Have you, señor?"

She watched as he loosed another roar before lunging for her. She sidestepped the blow with ease, a quick flick of her wrist sending him flying into the line of Musketeers where he was met with a swift punch from Athos.

"Surrender." He repeated, their rapiers re-raised as Rochefort sank to his hands and knees.

"I couldn't have been clearer Rochefort…" She crouched in front of him, the dagger hanging loosely from her hands. "I told you I was coming for you." He pushed himself back up and she had to give it to him; he was determined. "But you called it an empty threat." She shouted over the clang of steel on steel as he tried to fight all four Musketeers at once.

Porthos' punch threw him to the floor again as she pushed herself to her feet with a sigh. He should be dead from the dagger alone but he was still going; this time duelling D'Artagnan as Porthos stepped back – the one hit seeming to be enough for the man.

She did wince as D'Artagnan's quick flicks of the steel elicited a gasp of pain from the Comte; the quick slash across his stomach stopping him momentarily.

She stepped forward and waved them all away; she'd be dammed if anyone but her ended this.

"You blackmailed me." She bit out, lazily swiping away his sword. "You ostracised me." She twirled away from a particularly powerful lunge. "You made me lie to my family." She gestured to the assembled group. "And then…" She grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled it aside to show the black marks on her skin. "…You almost killed me."

They were battling properly now as she listed all his deeds; the words empowering them both.

"Twice!" She cried as they continued to parry. "But I can live with all of that…" She blew a strand of hair from her eyes and released her collar as they battled. "…but I will never forgive you for harming them." She pierced his chest with a single lunge, the sword sliding through him easily. "Never." She repeated, pulling the steel free and watching him fall backwards into the wall; sheer exhaustion pulling him downwards to sit on the floor as he bled out.

"When you get to hell and the devil asks who sent you there…" She said, sword clattering to the floor. "…tell him it was Anita Abaroa." She watched as a steam of blood bubbled up from his throat to dribble from his lips. "Tú pierdes, Rochefort."

* * *

An aura of calm had swept over the palace almost immediately after Rochefort took his last breath. Vargas had been bundled into a carriage and deposited on the other side of the France-Spain border and the King and Queen had all but fallen into each other's arms as they rushed at each other when they met in the reception room separating their wings.

Naturally, a full pardon had been issued to both Her Majesty and Aramis and Athos was glad that all of this seemed to finally be over.

They were out in the sunshine now with the full royal court returning in droves. His Majesty had used the time they had spent removing Rochefort's body, and all evidence of the bloodshed in the Queen's chambers, to scourge all traces of Rochefort from his own life – gone were the pyjamas and pale complexion and now they all stood, hours later; with the royal household in full regalia and them in official uniform (he didn't know where the powder blue cloaks had come from) with the King addressing them.

"Rochefort wrapped my mind in such terrible lies." He said, his gaze flicking between them all as Treville stood before them. "It is as if I have woken from a nightmare."

"He deceived many wise men, Your Majesty." He said, knowing the words to be too true as his own gaze flickered over to the woman in red embracing the Queen. "But you were the last."

Louis offered them a tight but grateful smile as he turned to his approaching wife; the Dauphin gurgling happily in her arms.

"He has grown stronger since we last held each other." She said, her grin only growing as Louis took her hand.

"And so have we." He kissed it. "You are a good and loyal wife." They shared a soft smile and Athos felt one of his own pull at his lips as the gurgling of the Dauphin interrupted the moment. "Oh, look at him! Course he's my son!" Louis declared, happily taking him from his mother to grin at him. "I'd need a mirror to find a better likeness!"

The soft laugh that left the group of Musketeers encouraged one of the King's own and Athos hoped to God that the man never discovered the truth; for all their sakes.

"You have been grievously wronged, Aramis." Louis said, handing the child to the waiting Constance and turning back to the Musketeers. "And I'm sorry for it."

"You have no cause to apologise, Sire. I am your humble servant."

"Spoken like a true soldier of France." The King smiled. "Speaking of which…" His voice changed dramatically; an uncommon sternness replaced the lightness. "…where is she?" He glanced to the Musketeers before turning and settling his gaze on the only person not in the usual pastel colours of the court. "Step forward, Mademoiselle Beauchamp."

Athos swallowed hard as he watched her step out from the assembled crowd of courtiers. She'd used the hour well too it seemed; the ruby paint that had adorned her lips had been wiped clean and her bedraggled hair had been pulled back into a low bun with only the smallest traces of dirt lining the back of her dress' skirt.

"Sire." She dropped to one knee before him. "I can only apologise for-"

"You put every member of this household in danger the day you decided not to tell anyone of your suspicions." She kept her head bowed as Louis spoke. "Your actions were deplorable though intentions good." He sighed. "I will never be able to repay you for your work." Her head snapped up at his unexpected praise and the tug at Athos' lips returned at the shocked expression on her face. "You, and you alone, saved us all." He took his wife's hand. "You are a hero."

"I was just doing my job, Sire." She insisted, rising as he gestured for her to do so. "The job you instructed me to do all those years ago."

"Consider this mission complete, Mademoiselle." He nodded to the woman. "You may return to your regiment."

* * *

And return she had.

Riding through the archway of the Garrison had almost brought tears to her eyes; she was finally able to open that part of herself that she had locked away when she had been dragged away from the Garrison on the charge of treason – fear.

There had been moments over these past few days (had it only been days?) when she had genuinely feared that her plan would not work; that Rochefort would somehow figure it out and she'd be unable to stop him from beheading everyone around her as they got in his way.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do next, she realised as she brought her horse to a stop in the training yard and everyone else dis-mounted and made their way to the picnic table already laden with wine and cups.

Constance was the first to notice she hadn't followed them and turned back to her with a frown.

"What's the matter?"

"I…" She trailed off as the four Musketeers also turned to her. "You…"

"Do you really think we're going to make you leave?" D'Artagnan asked, sliding into his place at the table.

"I betrayed each and every one of you." She reminded them, her reigns clasped tightly in her hands as she remained atop the horse in case she needed to make a quick getaway. "You hate me."

"We hate that you didn't tell us." Porthos said, taking a full cup from Athos as the man claimed the role of bartender. "Even when you could have."

"I thought-"

"You thought we wouldn't understand." Aramis finished for her. "Thought we'd judge you for your past life." He took a drink. "Because none of us have ever done _anything_ remotely shameful."

"But-"

"But you're a woman so it's different?" Constance asked, hands on hips. "That's not what my Anna would say or think." She raised an eyebrow. "Unless you've been lying to us since day one and you're not the strong, confident woman who helped me realise that I don't have to live my life according to what men think is right?"

"Of course not but-"

"Are you going to lie to us again?" Porthos asked. "Are you going to keep something of this scale from us?"

"No."

"Then take a seat." Athos said, pouring out a drink into the only cup that hadn't been claimed and holding it out to her. "And start at the beginning."

* * *

Twenty-four hours later and they were back at that very table with equally full drinks but a much lighter mood in the air.

"I can't believe you proposed." Aramis laughed as he brushed a speck of dirt off his hat.

"I can't believe it's taken him this long." Porthos said, happily refilling his cup as D'Artagnan fiddled with his uniform. "You've been together how long?"

"It's the right time."

"Couldn't wait another day?" Aramis asked, his voice light as he continued to tease the nervous groom. "Had to get us all up early on our first day of leave?"

"With everything that's happened…" He said. "…everything that could have happened…" He sighed. "I didn't see the point in wasting anymore time."

"Smart lad." Athos said, his voice full of pride as he clapped the youngest Musketeer on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you."

"Clearly…" D'Artagnan smiled, finally done fidgeting with the cape over his shoulder. "…considering you bought me the ring."

Athos felt his smile harden slightly at the mention of the silver band he'd slipped into the boy's hand late last night before ushering him towards Constance with the simple advice of: _"Don't wait until it's too late to realise what you want."_

"You bought the ring?" Porthos asked, eyes narrowing. "I didn't see you go off anywhere."

Athos simply ignored him, reaching for the decanter of wine.

"Ah, ah." Aramis tsked, pulling it away from him. "Where did you get the ring from?"

"It's not important."

"Don't wait until it's too late to realise what you want." D'Artagnan repeated his words back to him with a glimpse of realisation in his eyes. "Ath-"

"Are you four coming or what?" A female voice cut across him forcing their attention from Athos, much to his relief, and to the blonde making her way through the arch. "There's a bride waiting for her groom."

"Just giving him some last-minute advice." Aramis lied smoothly, throwing Athos a look that promised this wouldn't be forgotten soon, as he stood and placed him hat on his head.

"Oh Dear Lord." Anna groaned as they made their way towards her. "Please tell me you've ignored it?"

"Absolutely." D'Artagnan assured her.

"Right then." She reached out to tidy the collar of his shirt under his jerkin. "Ready?"

* * *

Walking Constance down the aisle had been an…experience; one he wasn't likely to forget soon. It had started out well; with the woman's nervous laugh making him laugh as they waited for the doors to the church to open and her question of _"Do I look okay?"_ eliciting another chuckle as he assured she looked beautiful in the cream dress with rosebuds on the bodice.

That had all been fine. Even taking her arm as the doors opened and they began to walk down the aisle had been fine. But his heart had jolted at the sight that met him as they reached the lines of pews in the small church; for he couldn't see D'Artagnan, couldn't see the gathered Musketeers as they grinned at the beautiful bride on his arm. No, all he could see was the woman in a soft pink dress with rosebuds woven into her own hair.

He could almost fool himself into thinking nothing had changed between them if he lingered on that image; could almost believe that they didn't have a long road ahead of them to figure out what they wanted now.

But then the memory moves on and while her soft smile was the same as usual, the marks marring her uncovered neck were clear signs of all that had happened. He wished he'd had the chance to get his hands on Rochefort at the end, but he was glad that she had delivered the final blow; she'd put up with him and his mind games for much longer than the rest of them. It's why he'd held D'Artagnan back when the moment had come.

He cared for the boy, he truly did, it's why he'd been more than proud to play such a huge role in his wedding. But even though Rochefort had almost killed his new bride, Anna deserved to dole out justice herself.

But he was choosing not to dwell on any of that, not tonight.

Tonight was reserved entirely for celebration and that was why he'd elected to step outside, into the cool night air, to let his more sombre thoughts play out.

"Thought we'd find you out here." He sighed at Porthos' voice but knew their discovery of him was meant with the best of intentions.

"Not in the mood for dancing?" He asked, as the two men settled opposite him at the table.

"I don't dance." Porthos reminded him as he retrieved a bottle of wine from inside his jerkin. "But I do drink."

"Conversely, I do dance." Aramis said, placing three cups beside the bottle. "But our little D'Artagnan looks so happy…it'd be wrong to upstage him."

"So considerate." He drawled, reaching out for the bottle and pulling its cork free.

"Ready to talk about it yet?"

"Talk about what?" He asked, letting the wine slosh into the cup. He met their eyes and sighed knowing what they were alluding to. "No."

"That's why we brought the wine." Aramis said, taking the bottle and filling Athos' cup to the brim. "Drink up."

"There's nothing to talk about." He told them, taking a mouthful of the ruby liquid.

"Porthos my friend…" Aramis began, ignoring Athos' eyeroll as he used a sentence starter very familiar to them all. "…do you find it intriguing that our dear friend Athos drinks like a fish only when he's having relationship problems?"

"I do." The darker man grinned, enjoying this game.

"First it was when she was absent from his life." Aramis continued as Athos reached out for the bottle. "And now it is because he wishes he were the groom dancing happily in there." He nodded to the Garrison behind them and the music that was pouring out of its main hall and into the training yard where they sat.

"Are you finished?"

"Are you willing to talk about it?" He shook his head. "Then no."

"You're exhausting." He sighed, taking another drink.

"Look…" Porthos said, clearing his throat and looking wholly uncomfortable about what he was about to say. "…we just want you to be happy."

"Thanks." He mumbled, but he did mean it; he knew they only had his best interests at heart.

"No need to run away." Aramis suddenly called out. Athos raised an eyebrow at the unexpected comment and glanced behind him to the shadows underneath the Captain's office. "You're more than welcome to join us."

"I wasn't expecting it to be so busy out here." A figure said as they stepped out from the shadows.

"You mean you weren't searching for a dance partner?" Aramis asked in mock shock as Anna stopped at the head of the table; a thin shawl around her sleeved arms to ward away the night air.

"If I was, I'd only have eyes for you Aramis." She assured him. "They look so happy in there." She sighed, glancing back to the party.

The men nodded to her statement before silence fell over them. Despite clearing the air yesterday they were all still a little wary of each other and none were sure if falling back into their old routine of playful banter was going to work.

"I should get back in there." Aramis suddenly announced, standing. "If the ladies are left without something pleasant to look at for too long, there'll be riots." He slid a hand under Porthos' arm as the big man reached for the bottle again. "Come on, I'll show you some steps."

He wanted to laugh at their poor attempt at subtlety when trying to give him and Anna some time alone. Porthos' fading voice brought a smile to both their faces as he complained loudly over being forced back in while Aramis whispered furiously to _"Shut up and just go in."_

"Cold?" He asked, noting her shiver as a light breeze swirled around them. "Sit down." He instructed, wishing that wine had the same effect on him as it did Aramis and loosen his tongue to allow out more than a few syllables each time.

She slid in beside him and accepted the wine he slid towards her.

"It's hard, isn't it?" She asked, fingers toying with the brim of the cup. "Trying to figure out what we can talk about after all that?" She glanced to him. "It's one of the reasons I didn't tell you."

"That and we'd both have been executed."

"Exactly." She laughed. "Though it is nice to be able to talk about it now."

They fell silent again, letting the faded music of the party fill the space until she mumbled something under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"I can't pretend to be her anymore." She said louder as he recognised the line as what she'd told him in the palace tunnels. "She would have tiptoed around the subject like I'm doing now and…" She trailed off, placing her hands flat on the table top. "I still love you." She told him, meeting his eyes. "In fact, I never stopped. But I understand if you-"

He didn't give her any chance to concoct some reason as to why she wasn't worthy of his love or why she was suddenly less to him. He refused to let her demean herself by talking herself down; by telling the world she wasn't worth love because she wasn't willing to sit around playing at being the perfect lady.

He pushed all of that into his kiss with the need they had first experienced in a tight spaced, secret cupboard while fearing for their lives, returning as her hands cupped his jaw.

They broke apart as a loud cheer erupted from the party; their eyes snapping to the entrance to ensure they weren't becoming a spectacle on their best friend's big day.

"I thought…" He cut himself off with a laugh as she moved her hand to rub tiredly down her face as she too chuckled. "What are the chances of that timing?" He asked with a smile, one finger lifting her chin to recapture her gaze. "I love you." He promised, pushing everything he could into his voice.

"I love you." She repeated, leaning forward to brush their lips together in a chaste kiss before letting him snake an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side, the awkwardness of sitting side-by-side doing nothing to stop them just enjoying the night's sky above and the feel of being close.

* * *

With the moon high in the sky now, the party was starting to break up with wives dragging Musketeers home to bed as children began to fall asleep in their parent's arms.

"I'm going to be honest…" Porthos began as he fell down onto the bench of the picnic table, capturing the small group's attention. "…I'm probably going to slip up and call you Madame Bonacieux in the morning."

"It's fine." The bride waved away his apologetic smile. "It's going to take some getting used to myself."

"Madame D'Artagnan." The groom grinned, dropping a kiss onto his wife's head. "I'll never stop saying it."

"If I'd known you were going to be this disgustingly happy I'd never have supported the relationship." Anna told them with a false glare.

"Says the woman with a doting man at her own side."

"Touché, Madame D'Artagnan; touché."

"I need to tell you all something." Aramis cut across the laughter of the group. All eyes turned to the man as he sat clutching his cup and glancing between them all. "I'm resigning my commission and retiring at the monastery in Douai."

There was a beat of silence as he searched their faces for their reactions before his own fell at the same time the laughter returned.

"You're going to become a monk?" Porthos asked, laughing at the thought. "Pull the other one."

"I made a vow to God and I have to honour it." Aramis continued, pushing himself up from the seat and away from the table as one by one they stopped laughing and realised his seriousness. "If I'd told you before the wedding you'd have spent all day trying to talk me out of it." He told them, offering Constance and D'Artagnan a small smile. "But I…I'm leaving tonight."

"Is this what you really want?" Anna asked, breaking the silence.

"With all my heart."

"Then who are we to deny you it?" She rose, feeling Athos stand too and moved to him. "Don't forget us." She joked, hoping that the tears that were threatening to form.

"You lot are imprinted on my brain." He replied, his voice as tight as hers as she reached up and looped her arms around his neck as his own held her close. "There's no getting rid of you."

"Farewell, old friend." Athos pulled him into an embrace as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped away.

"Are we just going to let him go? Seriously?" Porthos asked in disbelief as they both stepped back from the man.

"No." Athos told him as Constance too pressed a kiss to the Musketeer's cheek. "He's letting us go."

D'Artagnan said nothing, just stepped forward and with none of the restrain Athos had showed, pulled Aramis into what could only be described as a bear-hug.

"Look after him." Aramis said to Constance over the lad's shoulder. "I know he can be a handful; but he means well."

Porthos was slower to react. Waiting until everyone was clear of his best friend before stepping up to him. The moment seemed like it should have been private with so much being said in the silence between them before they both reached out at the same time to embrace. The muffled words they exchanged were unheard by everyone except them and Anna would argue till she was blue in the face with anyone who said that the reaction left her teary, even as she wiped a single one from her face.

"So this is it then?" The big man asked as they pulled apart. "You're off now?" He nodded to the saddled horse waiting at the stables.

"Not quite." Aramis forced a smile as he held his hand out flat "All for one…"

The group exchanged soft smiles before one by one placing their own atop it, with even Constance joining following the declaration that she was one of them whether she liked it or not.

"One for all."

As their hands dropped the former Musketeer stepped away and without looking back mounted his horse and pushed it into a trot out through the archway and away from the Garrison.

"I can't believe he made me cry on my wedding day." Constance sniffed, hands coming up to wipe at her cheeks.

Murmurs of agreement filled the space as the group of five began to turn back to their table.

"Oh God, please don't tell me it was a joke." Anna sighed as they all suddenly turned back to the arch at the sound of hoofs making their way across the cobbles and into the Garrison. "Because I will not be forgiv-"

"What's wrong?"

She wasn't sure who asked it but one look at Treville's pale face and white-knuckle hold on his reigns was enough to know he brought bad news with him.

"War has been declared on Spain." He told them. "All leave is hereby cancelled." Curses filled the air as he dismounted his saddle and strode over to them, eyes on his Lieutenant. "Let your men know they have to report here first thing."

"My men?"

"As Minister for War, I'm appointing _you_ Captain of the Musketeers."

"Me?" Athos asked, his arm dropping from her waist in shock. "I'm not fit to lead anyone."

"I don't think that's true." Treville half-smiled nodding to the group beside him and how not a single person had protested it. "The men look up to you; you can't let them down."

"Yes, Sir." He breathed, the man clapping a hand on his shoulder in pride.

"Anna." She turned to the man as he called her name and frowned at the sealed letter he withdrew from his jerkin. "These are your orders."

"My orders?" She asked, her mind clearly working as slowly as Athos' had as she took the note from him. "Orders for what?"

"You're going back to Spain."

* * *

Sleep hadn't come until the early hours of the morning. He'd ordered his men home first, with the implication that anyone who failed to show up the next day would have their commission revoked. By the time the Garrison had emptied he was up to his neck in equipment with Porthos and D'Artagnan lugging everything they could find out into the training yard.

He'd practically pushed the boy towards his room in the Garrison once he'd learnt what he was doing and with the mutter of _"Wedding night – don't make me carry you in there"_ he'd eventually left them to bid his wife a proper goodbye.

Porthos had retired not long after and then it had been just him in the empty yard. He'd had to remind himself of his new title and all that it promised when his feet had automatically turned to exit the Garrison. Instead, he'd forced them up the steps towards Treville's, no, his office.

He'd found her at the Captain's desk with papers strewn everywhere and her head in her hands. Between the maps and notes she'd scribbled to herself, he'd spotted equipment lists and regiment registers and his heart had warmed at the sight of her; legs crossed in the desk chair as she tried to juggle the needs of the regiment as the readied to march into war, with the demands of her mission.

They weren't talking about it. That much had been clear from the very moment Treville's words had sealed her fate. She'd bunched the letter between her hands and calmly asked for the accompanying package (the contents of which now littered his desk) before disappearing.

"Come on." He'd pried the quill from her hand and pulled her from the seat, tugging her behind him as he led her back into the main hallway of the Captain's floor and into its living quarters.

She'd insisted that she was fine; that she was expecting it and hey, why shouldn't their moment of happiness be interrupted by a war? It's only fair after all they'd been through. But he'd seen the hollowness in her eyes and as she tugged at the strings of her dress he'd placed two hands on her shoulders and trued to join her as they began to shake with sobs.

She was scared of going back. He'd realised that quickly as the words Vargas and execution poured from her. She'd told him of how she'd circumvented every main corridor and staircase of the palace, as she'd fought through the pain of her beating until she could stand without support and fight Rochefort, just to ensure the Spanish spymaster never saw her face; how she'd hidden it from him when he'd entered the Queen's rooms – grateful that her hair was loose around her shoulders at the time; how she wasn't sure where she'd find the bravery needed to step back into that viper's nest knowing that any wrong information she passed on could lead to them all never seeing Paris again.

And so they'd filled the time by whispering aloud the things they'd kept from each other for so long. Dreams of a small house with rolling hills and a small staff (just to give them _some_ rest bite, she'd insisted with a laugh) when they were too haggard from defending Paris to even hold a pistol anymore. How their table would always be full and their friends would just drop by when they were in the area. How they would always remember Pinon but never go back – letting the ghosts there rest now.

And when she'd pressed a kiss to his neck with a whisper of _"Someday"_ he'd rolled them and kissed her and shown her his love in every way possible until they were both too exhausted for anything but sleep.

Now the Garrison was full of life; he hadn't gone down there yet but he knew every single Musketeer would be hard at work despite their thumping heads from the night before. He could hear the clang of the forge as horses were shoed and wagons loaded with the first supplies they'd need at the front.

The parcel from the palace had arrived as they'd forced themselves from the bed and Anna had dutifully exchanged the gown and slippers inside for the papers she'd received the night before. He wondered exactly how she'd managed to absorb so much information; travel plans and backstories and all the information she'd need to ensure no one suspected her of being out of the loop whilst away from court had been returned to the palace and as she sighed at the small note from Her Majesty – _I hope you will accept this by way of apology –_ he'd watched her shed Antoinette Beauchamp and become Anita Abaroa.

Porthos and D'Artagnan met him at the bottom of the staircase with matching greetings of _"Captain",_ to which he'd simply sighed.

Powder ratios and pistols and food supplies all passed through his hands as he stalked through the training yard feeling strangely at home in his new role; all those months of being a Captain in all but name had served him well, until every wagon was full and every man armed.

He saw Constance first, the woman having offered to help with the intricate lacings of the royal gift, as she stepped down the staircase towards her husband. But she wasn't far behind and he felt his breath leave him as she turned the corner of the steps to face the entire Garrison. The clanging stopped as the men took her in and he knew they saw exactly what he saw; a Musketeer heading into a war none of them could imagine.

The powder blue – Musketeer blue – of the gown would be the colour he forever associated with her from now one as the colour wrapped around her body from the skirts to the corset. There were flashes of silver in there too; her underskirt was rippled with I, the metallic thread catching the light with every step she took.

He met her at the foot of the steps, hand ready for her own as the noise around them continued and she smiled softly.

"You look beautiful."

"Her Majesty has excellent taste." She replied squeezing his hand once before letting it slip away as she stepped towards Treville.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Minister." They both smiled at the title. "I'm to wait at the crossroads for the prisoner handover and I know my correspondence address for when I arrive in Spain. I'm ready."

"I don't doubt it." They fell quiet as they simply stood in front of each other, neither knowing what to say. "I'm sorry it had to be this way." He said, one hand reaching out to her shoulder. "If there was any other-"

"No one is as good as me." She reminded him. He nodded and took her hand, leading her to the waiting carriage that was taking up most of the room at the Garrison's entrance. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck." She told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I was trained by the best."

"Stay safe." Porthos ordered, as Treville stepped back. "I'm not going to fight this war if you're going to blow your cover again." She laughed at his version of a goodbye before pulling him to her as she had with Aramis.

"Write if you can." Constance insisted as she took Porthos' place. "But if you can't…"

"I know." Anna squeezed her, no doubt re-promising something they had already spoken about upstairs, before repeating the goodbye with D'Artagnan.

They all stepped back, moving to give them some space as Athos stepped forward to help her into the carriage. Their eyes met as she took her seat and she reached out to him once more. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, their goodbyes already said and with a sharp nod to the driver she moved away from him, her eyes moving from his only when the shadows of the archway hid her from view.

* * *

Calling it a prison handover had been crude; her guest in the unmarked carriage had arrived without any guard or shackles and had merely slipped from her own carriage into this one as her own rolled back to Paris.

It had been effortless; all she'd had to do was help them into the raised vehicle and that was it. So she had no real reason for still waiting here, on this small patch of grass at the crossroads out of Paris, an hour later.

But her mind kept replaying what he'd promised her when he'd thought she were asleep: _"I'll come to you; get Treville to abort your mission and return to us."_ There was absolutely no way it would happen of course; she couldn't go to war and she'd spent the last week insisting that she'd not spend her life waiting around for him. But she still clung to the shred of hope regardless.

"Are we waiting on someone else?" The voice opposite her asked. "Because I don't think we've enough room for another body in here – couldn't they spring for a bigger one?"

"No." She sighed. "We're not."

"Trying to prolong your time here before you re-enter Spain?"

"I told you; we're going to Brittany to put you on a ship to England, as promised."

"While it warms my heart to think that our deal means so much to you…" Helene began with a smirk. "We both know that escorting me to a ship is a cover…you're going to Spain."

"I can assure you that I am not set to board a ship to Spain."

"You and I both know that there are other ways into Spain, dearest Anna."

They exchanged a look as Anna toyed with the bloom between her fingers before sighing at the empty road leading from Paris. Of course he wasn't coming. She let the bloom fall and with a knock on the carriage shell they pulled off the grass and onto the North road.

As Paris began to grow small in the distance she let worries over Musketeer safety be replaced by Spanish gossip and court rituals in her mind. It was better this way, she reasoned; to have nothing marring her exit. After all, nothing could stop her from achieving what Treville had sent her to do; she'd infiltrated the Spanish court once, a second time couldn't be much harder.

* * *

He'd ridden hard and fast from the Garrison from the second Treville had taken one look at him and sighed.

"One hour." He'd warned as Athos hauled himself up into his saddle. "You've got one hour and you need to be back here."

It's all he'd need; one hour was enough to kiss her senseless and whisper his love one last time. The people of Paris had parted for him as though re-enacting a biblical scene and he'd clearly the labyrinth of streets in record time. He could see the crossroads where her carriage would be waiting for Helene; the woman was never on time, and he'd have plenty of time to spare.

A grin broke out onto his features as his horse climbed the slope to the grassy bank and his mind filled with all the different ways he would pledge his love to her and promise to fulfil their dreams the moment they returned from war. Because they would both return; of course they would. Nothing would keep them apart, not now when they had finally reached that point in their lives where they knew it all and were still willing to give it a go.

His smile dropped as he cleared the slope and found the bank empty; his horse falling into a light trot. His head whipped around, trying to figure out if this was the right bank, if maybe she was hidden behind a tree or…

He saw the bloom.

He wasn't wrong; this was the spot.

Sliding from his saddle, he searched the North road for any signs of the carriage she'd left in before crouching to pick up the flower.

He wanted to laugh; she'd known he'd come. Worse: she knew he'd be too late and had left a parting message.

He pocketed the flower and climbed back atop the horse, deciding to use his hour to take the scenic route through Paris as he tried to piece together his broken heart.

 _Forget-me-not_

As if he ever could.


End file.
